Fields of Fate
by OverMaster
Summary: Heaven's Feel. The Holy Grail Wars. A recurring event reverberating through time and space alike time and time again. This is the history of Grail Wars as recorded, from one end of continuity to the other. Includes characters from several other fictional franchises.
1. Zero Tolerance

"Master Kiritsugu," the maid said, appearing at the door, behind him, like a gentle ghost. "She's just born. Congratulations, you are now a father."

They were all like that, those servants of the Einzberns. Silent unless talked to, even while moving they proceeded with a complete lack of sound, as if their feet never touched the floor. Their behavior was just as quiet, barely above mannequins given life, and while the maid talking to him at the moment could give the impression of warmth and happiness well enough to fool most of those not initiated, even the most insightful mundanes would have quickly realized there was something unnatural about her, even if they could not tell what.

His wife was a miracle in more than one way, although hardly an accidental one. The man turned around from his silent watching spot by the large hall's main window and nodded politely at the bowing, white skinned maid as she bowed to the black haired, black suited man walking past her. She couldn't really appreciate the courtesy extended to her by the man, but then again, neither truly could he in return.

He walked across several more luxurious halls and rooms, all decorated with the same fine red carpets, all walls lined up with ancient trophies and solemn portraits from all too similar ancestors, who seemed to stare judgmentally at the tall man while he went on, until he reached the even bigger room where his wife's bed was. She sat there, smiling a soft, tired smile of quiet and pleasant beauty, with a tiny bundle wrapped in white in her arms. "Kiritsugu," the white woman, with long and smooth silvery hair, called over to him, and he entered almost reluctantly. Outside, the furious blizzards still unleashed their fury over the snowy mountains of North Germany.

"Hold her. Please," the woman asked, extending over the diminutive newborn, even smaller than the average. Only her face was visible, eyes closed, small mouth half open, the first few wisps of silver hair sticking out through the confines of the blankets wrapping her. She was so frail looking he instantly was afraid of hurting her just through contact.

"I don't know if I should," the man with the deep, dead eyes said.

"Why not?" his wife melodically asked, voice singing even past the ache of recent childbirth.

"I am death incarnate," he said, "and I will not stop. I will keep on bringing violence and bloodshed upon the world. I'm not worthy of this… this happiness."

She smiled sadly, holding the baby in a hand while weakly using the other to rub her knuckles against his forehead. "What have we said about not being so emo, now?"

"Where did you even learn that word?" he asked, mildly surprised, but she only gave him a wink and another pretty little mischievous smirk. He sighed.

"Kiritsugu," she said. "We have discussed this. Your desire is worth this, all your time and effort will pay off. And everything anyone else ever gave for your cause will reach fruit with our victory. I should know; we haven't reached it yet, and it's already made me happier than I ever had any hope or right to be. Through you, it gave me the will to be more than a marionette. It gave me this, our miracle," she added, delicately placing the stirring baby in her father's strong arms. "Whatever we do, no matter what we are fated to face, Illyasviel will make it worthwhile. We will give her a world where she won't ever have to suffer what we suffered. Eight years. All I ask from you is to hold on with me for eight years, please."

He nodded slowly, looking at one of the hands currently holding his daughter. A hand that had snuffed the life out of so many, several elegant lines in red now grazing the skin of its back. Marks that, for better or worse, branded him for something he, and now his family, could not escape from. There was no point on trying to escape that, only on tackling it head on and struggling for the best. As ever, Irisviel was right.

"I love you," he said, meaning each word.

That had been eight years ago.

* * *

Nasu Kinoko and Type-Moon created and own _Fate/Stay Night_ , _Fate Prototype_ , _Fate Zero_ , _Fate EXTRA_ , _Fate Extella_ , _Fate Apocrypha_ , _Fate/Strange Fake_ , _Fate Kaleid Liner Prisma Illya_ , and _Fate Grand Order_.

All other characters and franchises are the intelectual properties of their respective copyright holders.

* * *

 **Fields of Fate.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Zero Tolerance**.

* * *

Saber, the valiant swordsman.

Archer, the skilled bowman.

Lancer, the chivalrous spearman.

Rider, the stubborn warrior on horseback.

Caster, the furtive and astute mage.

Berserker, the crazed fighter racing across the battlefield.

Assassin, the murderous backstabber hidden in the night.

These are the seven Classes of Servants bound to Magi in the fight for the Holy Grail War, the miracle cup able to grant any wish. For it, they would destroy each other without a second thought, commint the greatest treacheries and villanies, as well as the most heartwrenching acts of nobility and self-sacrifice. This is the chronicle of the Grand War for the Holy Grail, and the fate of mankind.

It starts with someone who was not even human.

* * *

Assassin, the Servant who kills in the shadows. This young man of the cloth, Kotomine Kirei, had received his proof as a Master, the seals of command on the back of his right hand, exactly three years ago. His father had called this early manifestation a precious gift from God, and then suggested Kirei to choose Assassin as his Servant for Heaven's Feel, the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki City.

"It is for the best interests of mankind," elegantly purred the green eyed, dark haired Tohsaka Tokiomi, sipping from his glass of the finest red wine. The three men were secretly gathered in Tohsaka's exclusive Fuyuki villa. "Only a magus from one of the three original families could master what lies in the Root after accessing it. The Einzberns have lost their way; the Matous, their power. Only I could use the Holy Grail for what it was intended at last, and for that I have secured the relice of history's greatest hero. It would be pointless to war against each other, Kirei-kun."

"I understand your point," the younger man told his mentor quietly, standing respectfully in his presence. "I have no wish for the Great Grail myself, so I don't desire to fight you for it." All of this was true, too. Kirei's heart was empty, and that meant he had no personal ambitions to speak of. At least, none he wished to think about, much less share or follow.

"That's excellent," his gray yet jovial father approved. "Then let's join forces for the greater good. No matter what happens, Cup cannot fall in the wrong hands. Out of everyone in the Church and the Magic Association, only we share common ground. We won't make they mistakes they would commit, fighting only for their own interests. You will support Tokiomi, and for that, an Assassin to strike behind the scenes as our friend leads the charge is the best alternative."

"That is very logical, Father," the other priest nodded sedately. His heart took no joy from serving others, whether his associates' intentions were truly sincere or self-serving to a degree, but he still knew that was his duty. A tiny part of him briefly flickered inside, alive for once, at the fleeting idea of sending someone to snuff lives treacherously, but he quickly silenced it, his face ever stoic. "I will do it, of course. I have all of my faith on Tohsaka-sama's capacity to achieve victory with our Lord's help."

And those words sealed the fates of all three of those men.

 _"Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade. If thou submitteth to the call of the Holy Grail, and if you wilt obey this mind, then thou shalt respond, child of Hassan-i-Sabah."_

Summoning an Assassin was easy as long as one had the marks of a Master. No relic was necessary, just the intent to invoke the Class and the mention of the Old Man of the Mountain during the ritual. Assassins were by default the disciples of the Order of Hassan, its elite killers. Which was why Kotomine Kirei and Risei couldn't believe what they'd see the night selected for the summon, shortly before the sixty anniversary of the Third Fuyuki Heaven's Feel.

 _"I make my oath here,"_ Kirei chanted the in the darkness of the church. _"I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven. I am that person who is covered with the evil of all of Hades."_

Standing behind his son, Risei grew excited, absently rubbing his sweaty hands together, as the floor under them began glowing. Completely unfazed, Kirei kept on the incantation, his attention never wandering.

 _"Thou seven Heavens, clad in a Trinity of words, come past their restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance…!"_

And then, a major explosion of light, and a sublime ecstasy of triumph pumping through both men even as they were momentarily blinded. Kirei regained his sight first and then only could gasp in shock and awe that were so new and alien to him. For what stood before him now could not be one of the League of Assassins. It wore all black, buta ll resemblances to the illustrations in his textbooks ended there.

This was a grotesque caricature of a hypermusculated man, skin chalk white, smelling of pooling sweat and cheap wore black leather pants, black boots and fingerless gloves, and an open leather jacket, that of a Hell's Angel biker, showing off his massive hairy chest. His hair was black, long, wild and scraggly, and his eyes bloodshot red, as evil as those of the demons Kirei had often hunted as a Church Executioner. In his mouth a smoking cigar, in his right hand a huge metal hook attached to a long rusty chain. Around his waist, a belt with dozens of gun holders and several pouches stuffed with grenades, knives and plastic explosive.

"Yo," this man growled, waving a hand. "I'm Assassin. Call me Servant an' I rip yer fraggin' faces off. Which one of ya pedo dweebs called th' Main Man here?"

"You're not a Hassan," Risei faintly said.

"Last time I checked, no, I wuzn't, Gramps," Assassin chuckled gruffly. "Why wouldja care? You stiff-necked penguins just gotta way better than that. F'get 'bout desert dwellin' pansies in Halloween masks, you fellas hit the jackpot! It's me, Lobo! Number One super duper hitman in th' whole fraggin' galaxy! If it lives, I can kill it fer ya, an' if it doesn't, I'll revive it an' then kill it again!"

Kirei, his initial surprise abated, bowed. "It is my pleasure, honorable Assassin. I'm your Mas—summoner, Kotomine Kirei, and this is my father, Risei."

Lobo blinked, then looked around. "Wait. 'Tis a Catholic church, right?"

"That's correct."

"An' yet you're… dad an' sonny-boy?"

Both priests nodded.

"How does that even work, your adopted or—ya know what, nevermind! Like hell I care! What matters is, if dat pansy-ass infodump voice back there wuz right, I'm here ta kill a whole lotta Servant freaks fer ya an' then collect all Quartzes 'til cows come home, okay?!"

Kirei nodded, deciding to ignore the whole strange tangent about Quartzes. Must have been a cultural quirk of this Servant's race, whatever that was. "Indeed."

Assassin grinned evilly from ear to ear, yellow fangs chomping down on the cigar. "Music to my ears, Clyde! Now we're talkin' th' same language. What are we waitin' fer then?"

"Um, for the other Servants to materialize," Kirei replied.

Lobo blinked. "Ya mean I'm the first?"

Risei nodded. "I'm the apointed Supervisor for this War. All participants should register with me before entering the fray."  
Assassin ran a hand down his own face. "Well, frag! Those candy-asses better not take long! In th' meanwhile, what if we hit a brothel 'til then?"

"We're men of God!" Kirei reminded him.

"That didn't stop your daddy from spawning you, Pretty Boy!" Assassin snarled. "What, you contented with altar boys then? Th' Main Man doesn't swing dat way! That tape from Noonan's wuz doctored, I tell ya!"

Risei sighed. "I'll take you to one, Assassin. I figure it's the least I can do for your services."

Kirei stared at his father.

"What?" the old man defended himself. "I happen to do community work there, trying to steer those poor sheep away from a life of vice and decay. Only that, and nothing else!"

"You ain't taking me off to go screw literal sheep, are ya, Gramps?" Assassin asked.

* * *

 _"Fill, fill, fill…"_ the young man, handsome, vital and happy, sang on as he drew the circle on the floor, struggling to finish before the blood coagulated and grew too thick for the task. After some trial and error, he'd prepared a concoction by mixing several ingredients found in the small house's kitchen with the blood, and that had worked until now, but he still was wary. Of that at the very least. _"With each repetition, four times… five times?_ How did it go?" he stopped to scratch his light brown scalp. After checking once again on the book held in his left hand, he returned to drawing and singing, _"When it's full, break it up! Fill, fill, fill, filling, filling, and there!_ That's five times, isn't it? It should be enough."

Whistling as he stood up and wiped the sweat off his forehead, he smiled at the boy tied to a chair at a corner of the room, a typical Japanese ten year old surrounded by the carved and bleeding corpses of his typical parents and older sister, splayed across the floor. "Hey, buddy," the man asked him in a friendly tone, "do you believe in demons?"

The little boy only could sob through the thick gag covering the lower half of his face. The man sighed, wiping off his red caked hands on a rag. "Because if they don't exist, well, I'm afraid your family just died in vain," he made a small scowl. "Of course, all deaths are in vain when you think about it, aren't they? Or is that all lives?"

He flipped again through the book, an old, moldy volume he'd bought cheap in a second hand store ran by some funny looking fellow in a floppy hat and sandals. "I guess demons do exist, you could say I'm one, but… what was I thinking, expecting this would work at all? If it were that easy, everyone would do it and we all would have servant demons to water our plants and fix our cars and guard our houses. Too late for you on that last one, I suppose!"

He stared at the unchanged circle, slowly attracting flies, and frowned like a disappointed little boy. "I knew it wouldn't work, but… it'd have been nice…"

Absently, he scratched the back of his right hand and noticed a large red rash on his skin, complete with a new strange pattern that looked like the stylish silhouette of a dragon. "Oh," he quietly said to himself. "Tattoos aren't really my style, but still better than nothing, I should guess? Maybe it needed four people to work." He grinned and showed the mark to the boy, enthusiastically talking as if addressing a dear old playmate. "Hey look, look, it kinda worked after all! Do you think it's still possible to get more if I kill y—"

Then the room began to shine in an eerie greenish hue, as smoke ascended from the floor in puffy wisps, making the young man open his mouth widely, fascinated. "Oh shit, we did it, little buddy, we did it!" he heartily told the panicking and kicking boy. "Don't be afraid, this is way too cool! Maybe it'll kill me too, but you don't see… me… oh, geez."

Before him now rose a very tall and thin sinister figure, wrapped in a tight black tunic, its head ornate with two sharp and long, twisted and demonic black horns. In a bony hand of elongated fingers and black nails, a long black rod; on a shoulder, a large crow, perched comfortably as the woman stretched herself to full stature, slow and majestically. Her eyes were cold and inhuman and yet no devoid of beauty and grace; her face was pale and angular, with a strong jawline and very red lips.

"I think I once saw you in a movie?" the young killer whispered.

"I am Caster, the Servant of Darkness," the woman icily told him, the bird on her shoulder crawing once. "It was you who invited me upon this world, weren't you?"

"It must've been me, yeah…" he scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, what are the odds of there being another reason going on right now, right? Wow, so you're the devil? Nasty subliminal propaganda they put into kids' flicks, no wonder why today's youth is so fucked up. Grandma was right after all!"

"I don't understand what are you talking about," Caster sneered, then looking at the three eviscerated bodies without batting an eye. "I see. You are in this for the mere thrills, aren't you? How should I call you?"

He shrugged, deciding the least he could do for a (fellow) demon was to introduce himself properly. "How do you do, Ma'am, I'm Uryuu Ryuunosuke. Twenty three years old, born here in Fuyuki City, but I moved away five years ago, after my sister died. Recently the factory where I worked closed up, so I came back home, and you could say I'm a freelancer now…"

"Oh, so you aim for money and status after all," she sneered dismissively.

"Nah, don't get me wrong. I'm not a thief or anything, I never steal anything from people. I wouldn't like being robbed myself, so I don't ever do that to them. I only take souvenirs. Is that… Is that bad? I mean, to gain points with you, was I supposed to, I dunno, be greedy on top of everything else?"

"Points?" she arched a fine eyebrow.

Uryuu nodded eagerly. "Like, we can gain points with you people depending on how much we sin, right?"

"It would seem you have mistaken me for a demon from the hellpit," this woman aloofly said. "But if I were a fallen angel, I'd have Divinity and you could not have summoned me. I am a dark fairy, even though my powers do come from Hell."

He stared in complete perplexity. "… you lost me."

She snarled furiously, her emotions exploding abruptly and further scaring the weeping child. The crowd flapped its wings madly as emerald flames seemed to briefly erupt all around her. "Don't mock me, dolt! Don't you have any idea of the powers you have called forth?!"

Ryuunosuke paused. "Sorry, didn't mean to offend. No need to get so snippy, geeze! I just happened to find this book, and I was bored, so I thought, what the heck, sorry, hell, let's give this magic stuff a chance, what could I lose from—"

"Enough," the woman sighed quite deeply, slamming her staff down. Uryuu frowned. "Then you are but a child toying around. Don't you even know about the Holy Grail you are supposed to obtain?"

"Like in the Indiana Jones movies? That thing really exists? Oh, wait, that's right, I think they mentioned it here, somewhere," he began flipping through the book. "That part was boring, so I skipped it over. Well, if there's a devil then I guess Jesus must've existed too…"

"You're an imbecile," the woman declared, "but it matters not. There must be potential in you, otherwise you wouldn't have managed to summon my glory. Stay behind me and simply follow my instructions and I will allow you to partake in my victory… Master."

Uryuu scratched his head. "Izzat all? Doesn't sound too hard, but I might not have the time for it. I'm not a lazy guy, understand, but I've gotta find a new day job, and I'd like to keep my hobby for the nights too, it's not just a pastime, it's a project in process to leave my mark on this world, like—"

"Finding the Holy Grail and disposing of lives are hardly incompatible goals," Caster said, sounding bored as she moved towards the bound child, grabbing his chin and forcing a tiny, wispy swirl of semitransparent, spectral, even gaseous looking essence to flow out of him and into her expecting other hand. She shuddered in pleasure as the little boy slumped ahead, now lifeless, like a ragdoll. "One can be used to further to other."

"Whoa, that was radical!" Uryuu quietly observed. "You ate his soul, right? Like in that old American game… Fatal Combat, right?"

She nodded. "A Servant can consume human souls to keep and boost their power, and I will obviously need that since you are so inept a mage, and frankly, physical intimacy with you would be worse than death."

"I don't get you all that well yet," he admitted, "but was that a jab against my manhood? Lady, don't knock it until you have tried it!"

"I would rather wish to never try in the first place, thank you," she made a gesture of contempt with a hand.

"Well, yeah, lots of others could tell you otherwise," Ryuunosuke said, his pride as a figurative and literal ladykiller briefly wounded before more serious matters resurfaced in his mind. "So you don't mind if they're kids? We can work with those too, alright?"

"Adults, children, it's all the same to me. Worthless lives all. I once cursed a baby to death in her cradle."

"I know, I told you I watched the movie, remember?"

She looked at him with more of the same disdain. "I'm amazed you ever looked for a book anywhere in the first place."

"Now, now, I'm a complex and multilayered man! Not just a pretty face and nice bod… By the way, all the same, I'm glad you aren't the Angelina Jolie version."

"So I am, actually. That's at least something we have in common then."

* * *

A man, still young yet physically ravaged to the point the left half of his body was slowly collapsing on itself, knelt before a wide summon circle in a basement as consumed by darkness as its owner. Said owner, a tiny, trollish looking, twisted man with a large bald head, stood by the basement's door with a wicked and pleased smirk, his body supported on a wooden cane. He wore traditional robes, while the sickly looking younger person was in a simple black shirt and pants.

 _"I am the one who is to become the virtue of all Heaven,"_ the deformed kneeling man coughed, feeling pain beyond comparison from within just as he recited, _"I am the one who is covered with the vices of all Hades."_

Next came the decisive lines added to the ceremony, the ones to guarantee a certain effect on the incoming Servant. By pronouncing them, besides inflicting even more agonic pain upon himself, the invoker would bring the berserker rage, the Mad Enhancement, upon the Heroic Spirit. An effect to grant great brute force and other boosted physical traits in trade for rationality and presence of mind.

 _"Yet, thou serve with thine eyes clouded in chaos. Thou, bound in the cage of madness. I am he who commands those chains…"_

Matou Zouken cackled perversely, watching the eyes of his nephew begin leaking tears of blood. He could feel his familiars, the devouring worms, squirming under the invoker's skin, their magic fueling a contract even deadlier than most Servant summons. Bringing forth a Berserker was all but a quick or eventual at most death sentence for a magus. Rabid beasts with obscenely high intakes of mana, Berserkers in prior Wars had always killed their Masters, either through mindless and violent treachery or through simple exhaustion.

 _"Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words, come past your restraining rings, Guardian of Scales!"_

It was such a delightful testament to Kariya's despair, the fact he would do this if Zouken forced him to. Finally, he was showing this rebellious fool the futility of his actions. In a way, no matter the final outcome, Zouken felt like he'd already won the War.

And then, all consuming light briefly cutting through the blackness, and at first, an unbearable silence broken only by Kariya's fits of tortured coughing and wheezing.

"What have you done?" asked the Servant's voice as he rose from the floor where he had manifested lying face down. This surprised both Zouken and Kariya. Berserkers were supposed to be both thoughtless and insanely strong, and this man was obviously coherent and not much taller than Kariya himself, a poor build clad nothing but tattered purple pants.

Zouken squinted. "Are you… Servant Berserker?"

"Why have you brought **him** upon this world?!" the half naked brown haired man took both hands to his own head, anguished and frantic. "Don't you have the slightest idea how much destruction will **he** bring?!"

"Answer my question," Zouken sneered venomously, Kariya breaking into another lapse of bloody coughing.

"Yes," the stranger said with sudden, grim soberness. "We are Berserker. You'll see him soon enough. As soon as I'm angry. And you won't like it."

"Looks to me like you're already angry," Zouken hummed darkly.

"I am always angry. But _he_ comes out when I'm even angrier. Then the nightmare starts all over again. It'll never go away for good. Why didn't you leave me back there? Back there, we had peace… it was so peaceful…"

"My apologies," Kariya rasped, feeling this man's ache with the familiarity of another who had suffered greatly. "I'm Matou Kariya, your Master, and this… this is Matou Zouken, my uncle."

The man, Berserker, looked at Kariya's face, shocked. Finally, he said in tired resignation, "Well. I suppose I can't fault you for wanting the Holy Grail after all."

"It's not for my own sake," Kariya tried to smile, although his facial muscles didn't allow it. He reached over to pat Berserker's shoulder. "Should we win, I will wish for your happiness, but first and foremost…"

Zouken interrupted with another gleeful cackle. "My boy is an idealist fool, a romantic. He would throw his own life away for the child of another man."

"He would?" Berserker said coldly. "Then maybe, just maybe… this might be worth a try despite everything." He looked back at Kariya. "Now what?"

"We're getting out of here. This isn't my home. Not anymore."

"That's fine with me."

Zouken growled as they began going up the stairs leading out of the basement. "Just remember, Kariya!" he cried, waving his staff after them. "No double crosses! No failures! Or you'll never see her again!"

Berserker tightened a fist, struggling not to turn back around. "Would you care if this house were suddenly reduced to rubble?"

"Usually not," his Master said, "but as much as I'd like it, I can't turn against him with hurting those I love. My only chance is to win this damned War, so my life… no, _our_ lives are in your hands."

Berserker lowered his head. "I'll try my best," he promised. And then, after a pause, "You know, I used to know a guy who looked and acted just like him."

"How did you call him?" Matou asked as they walked towards the front entrance of the ancient manor by the roadside.

"The Gargoyle."

Kariya almost felt like chuckling for the first time in far too long. "I'll have to remember that one…"

* * *

"You are late," said gravelly the extremely tall, white as snow both in hair and attire, and nearly as pale, as well.

His guest made a small, apologetic smile. The old man still choose to interpret it as an insolent gesture, because that was the way he was. "Sorry about that, Herr Acht. I ran into a few old friends on my way here."

They stood before each other in a chamber one thousand years old, deep into a castle within the snowy mountains of Northern Germany. The windows of stained glass portrayed miracles from the past in starkly colorful hues contrasting with the grim presence of the rest of the chamber. They told the long history of the Heaven's Feel rituals. A history the young tall man with the concealing cloak, the ragged coat and the generic, harmless looking face was no part of. Until that day.

"We are gambling the future of the Einzbern legacy on your performance, Maris Billy Animusphere," the humorless voice of Justabeicht von Einzbern echoed thunderously across the chamber. "The enemies you have gained must not interfere in your assignment. I trust you have understood the seriousness of this situation by now."

"Completely, Herr Acht," the man called Animusphere nodded. "Anything you say, Herr Acht!"

As he spoke, several male homunculi walked closer, one holding a sealed box, three others carrying a huge circular package, heavily wrapped around, which made the master of the castle fall reverently silent, the young man's insolence forgotten. _"You have delivered…"_ he whispered, before pride overtook him again, and he stared harshly at the visitor once again, until another man spoke up.

"It doesn't matter. Should any of them appear, I will dispose of them as we agreed. Maris Billy," he nodded blandly towards the other man, who was carelessly shaking blood stained snow off the bruises all over him. "Thank you for bringing the catalysts, but maybe you'd like a bath and some treatment first?"

"Nah. I work better like this," said the visitor, handing this long coat over to a doll-like, dutiful maid of milky skin and ice blue eyes. "You won't mind, will you, Sella dear? Thanks, you're a lifesaver." He looked at the slightly older than him black haired man, in a fine black suit and tie, and asked, "How's Illya?"

The other man managed a small smile, something Maris Billy had never seen him doing before. "Thanks for asking. Healthier and more beautiful each passing day. I'll take you to see her as soon as we're done here."

"Let's get on with it then," said the adventurous academic, rolling his sleeves up. For a moment, his gaze met that of the gorgeous woman standing by his associate, her arm on his. Wearing the rich ceremonial dress in regal purple and silver, her long white hair loosely framing her angelic face, she was the kind of beauty he favored, reminding him of his own wife, but even more delicate and yet elegantly sensuous. He shook those thoughts off shortly, knowing all too well what was in store and at play, and his excited smile returned, mostly to annoy the old magus king of this frozen castle. "It's always stupid to make royalty wait!"

Soon later, he and Emiya Kiritsugu stood at opposite sides of an ancient large altar lit by dozens of candles, listening to the winds howl and roar outside. On its surface, two large chunks of old, rusty metal set before Emiya, and a gigantic, round dark shape taking most of the altar before Animusphere. Jubstacheit and Irisviel stood aside, flanked by several armed homunculi of ghastly pale and inexpressive faces. The conjurers extended their arms ahead and chanted the words, feeling the respective magus crests within their bodies pulse and vibrate. This was the power of two separate lineages manifesting through them, forcing to synchronize as they said each word at the exact same time, with practiced discipline and coordination.

Each summoning of a Heroic Soul was a miracle. But the Einzberns had always strived to take miracles even further.

 _"Set, set…"_

Sixty years ago, the illustrious clan had failed to bend the rules they had set themselves in the first Heaven's Feel. Irisviel's eyes quietly rested, for a moment, on one of the stained windows, showing the family's prior representative standing before a dark, vaguely shaped figure with red eyes, an image that always made her shudder inwardly. But of course, she told herself, she trusted Kiritsugu not to commit a similar mistake. She had the utmost faith on him, and even her distrustful father had for once placed his confidence on someone. The Magus Killer and the scholar. A mismatched pair if there was ever one.

She was so distracted by such thoughts she missed on most of the chants, until she felt her father's hand squeezing her shoulder tightly, for support, the first sign of true humanity she had ever seen from him. Against all she had ever believed when briefly entertaining unlikely and laughable notions in that vein, however, that gesture of strange vulnerability from the tower of a man didn't make her feel any better. Just scared, because if _he_ was shaken, even for a second, what did that mean for the world?

 _"—the hands to protect the balance!"_

From each set of relics, a figure rose bathed on pure light, glorious and imposing. One of them, a gorgeous young-looking blonde in a long blue dress, with armor plates on her chest and gauntlets, her hair neatly tied back into a single white bun. By Animusphere's side, next to this impossibly beautiful armed female warrior, a dutiful looking young woman with light short hair, which fell in bangs that would hide most of her cute rather than gorgeous pale face. She wore a form hugging black ensemble of body armor that actually showed a lot of her curvaceous, surprisingly well stacked physique off, complete with tall boots. In a hand, she held a gigantic thick shield that looked like someone had taken a massive dark table apart and started carrying it around for protection. It was easily bigger than either young woman, and almost touched the room's quite high ceiling. That on itself was no shock, as most Servants were alleged to be superhumanly strong regardless of size.

The fact both of these Servants were females, however, had managed to reduce everyone around them into a stunned, disbelieving silence.

The blonde managed to speak a fraction of a second first, with a voice that was cold and devoid of feeling. Her green eyes fixed squarely on Kiritsugu, who only could stare at him in disbelief, despite all of the marvels and horrors alike he had witnessed until then.

"I am Servant Saber," was what she said. "I ask of thee, are thou my Master?"

And then she heard the gasp by her side, and she felt herself mildly startled for a split second, looking into a familiar face that stared back, wide eyed, at her. "I… I am Servant Shielder," the other young lady said, her earlier confidence upon summoning now replaced by a confused amazement as she found herself reborn along her lord and sovereign. "And… I am glad to see you again… Your Majesty? Do we, do we have to fight each other, now?"

The old master of the castle took a hand to the bridge of his strong nose, beginning to massage it sharply. For once he was at a complete loss for words and actions that would last far too long for his taste.

* * *

No one had ever appreciated Waver Velvet's genius. At least if you asked him. Others would have told you he had no genius to appreciate.

Mocked and belittled by his peers in the Clock Tower academy, he'd endured ridicule and prejudice for years. This short, black haired young man from an average family of modest magi had carried the stigma of not being exceptional through the whole of his formative years, yet he'd forged ahead nonetheless, convinced his studies and hard work would make it all worthwhile in the end, thanks to his graduation thesis.

But then, last year, Lord Archibald Kayneth El Melloi had crushed those hopes, too.

"It's just fair," Waver murmured to reassure himself, flinching as he sliced the neck of the final chicken he'd stolen from a neighboring farm after a lot of humiliating travails, and poured its blood onto the ground, finishing the magical circle. Under a full moon, he stood on the chilly Japanese hillside, taking only a moment to zip his jacket all the way up to his neck while further rationalizing to soothe his nerves, "He owed me, and this is the least he could do for me, right? Besides, it's not like he could get me after I've won the War…"

Because he'd win, of course! He forced himself to think positively as he sang the words, which we'll spare you from having to read through this time. Old magi like Lord El Melloi had grown lazy and overconfident on their natural capabilities, so they were bound to lower their guard and underperform, while he would be aware of his surroundings and studying every situation with his superior observation and analysis skills at all times (the fact this just might be a sort of overconfidence on his own abilities as well completely escaped his notice). All he had done by stealing El Melloi's catalyst was putting it to a better use, instead of letting it go to waste.

 _Oh, how noble I am,_ he thought, moved by his own mercy towards this precious, priceless relic fated to reshape the world once again, as he finished the chant. And then, the reins violently, and Waver knew he had done it. He felt like shouting in joy! Light began erupting from the dirt in the form of six pillars of white. It was the most beautiful thing Waver had ever witnessed, as they shot up towards the moon. He smiled. Truly, Iskandar's reign reached all the way to the sky!

But then, just as quickly, he grew alarmed. What was ascending from the reins of Alexander the Great was obviously not human. Although its full shape was not clearly visible at this point, and it was at least as tall as a man, it had four legs and no arms. It looked really impressive and powerful in its own fashion for sure, but it still didn't change the fact this had to be… a horse?!

 _Bucephalus? I've summoned_ ** _Bucephalus_** _?!_ Waver panicked. _Can you even summon animals?! That's unfair! None of the books mentioned anything about this!_

As the lights dimmed down, the horse- for there was no mistaking whatsoever now that was what it was- finally was fully visible. It was white furred and very elegant, with a long and thin neck, a luscious light aquamarine mane and long tail, and a sharp, long horn at the middle of its forehead. _Bucephalus was a unicorn?!-?!_ Waver's shock grew even more. _W-Well, that sort of makes sense, doesn't it, no, what am I even thinking…?!_

The horse opened its eyes, and they were large, languid, blue and feminine, extremely beautiful, with long and delicate eyelashes. Then her body jerked violently, once, and from her back unfolded two wide white wings, as eye pleasing as a cherubim's, gently scattering feathers all over the small deserted hill.

 _No, maybe I summoned Pegasus instead!_ Waver sweated, not understating how that could have happened. _I don't get it, what's the link?! It's because they were both Greek? Was Bucephalus a descendant of Pegasus? And how does Pegasus help me anyway? I'm not Perseus! Maybe if I can take it… him, her, whatever… to the Clock Tower I can get an award, but in a Grail War…?!_

The horse looked down on Waver and smiled gently at him, in a way Waver never would have imagined possible from an animal. "Good evening," she politely said with a voice that was very pleasant and unmistakably that of a female. "I am Servant Rider. Are you my Master?"

He nodded stiffly. "Y-Yes… That, I am, but… but… You are Rider?! How?! N-No offense, but you are a ride, not a rider!"

She made a motion that was too much like that of a human shrug of shoulders. "Mysteries of the Grail."

"That doesn't even make any sense and doesn't really answer anything!"

She laughed lightly, in a lyrical tone full of good hearted happiness. "Magic is what you want it to be, Master… and sometimes, just sometimes, what you _need_ it to be."

His brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No, seriously. Do you ride other horses or something like that? Were you a rider who could take on the appearance of her mount? Or do you have a chariot pulled by other horses or… Aaah, it doesn't matter anyway!" he tugged on his hair. "I'm lost! Lord El Melloi must have set me up! It's all his fault again! I bet he's watching this and laughing at me right now!"

Rider blinked. "Oh dear. Please calm yourself, Master. It's true my power would have ranked higher had I been summoned as a Ruler, which in no way is your fault, but rest assured I still am the sovereign of a whole nation, and if necessary I will fight to the end with all the power of the Sun." With a confident smile, she briefly shook her hindquarters, on which there was, indeed, a sun-shaped blue mark. Waver stared incredulously, hiccupped a little to keep himself from crying, and simply asked the first next thing that came to his mind, in a strangled tone.

"Ruler? Is that a Class of Servant, or what? I'd never heard of it before!"

"Just because something has never been seen, it doesn't mean it doesn't exist, Master." She looked all around and gasped loudly. "Oh my goodness! What in the world happened to all those poor chickens?!"

Waver's shoulders drooped. "Who knows? Mysteries of the Grail, I suppose," he mumbled, feeling at least a small measure of vindication from this.

* * *

"I am Servant Lancer," she said with a voice both delicate and cold, rising from her kneeling position on the summon circle. "Which one of you is my Master?"

Archibald Kayneth and his fiancée stared at her in shock. For several moments the wide deluxe hotel room was completely still and silent. The young woman, pretty much a child of pale complexion and short black hair, stared back at them with her huge, glacially stoic purple eyes. Finally, feeling his duty as a Master reasserting itself over his confusion, the well dressed man, his hair impeccably slicked back as ever, answered while adding a question of his own.

"I called Diarmuid of the Love Spot to this world", he said, "but why have you answered in his stead? The catalyst belonged to him, so who are you?"

She looked aside with apparent complete aloofness. "Like any other hero, especially those with a tragic legend, Diarmuid was bound to the chains of death. I'm the Guardian of the cycle of Destruction and Rebirth." Absently, she hit the lower end of the staff she held, far taller than herself and topped by a huge sharp blade, against the wine red carpet. That, if anything, only confused the couple even further.

"Are you… the spectre of death?" the attractive red haired woman warily guessed.

She still refused to meet their gazes, her attitude that of a shy youngster but her tone chilling in its softness. "I have been called that," she admitted. "I am the doombringer, one who is to devastate the world so evil can be purged and a new order can rise from the ashes."

Kayneth hummed gruffly, refusing to believe this scrawny female in dark tall boots and a scandalously short skirt could live up to her outrageous claims. Still, she was obviously a Servant of some sort, and he knew better than to offend or enrage an unknown Heroic Spirit unless absolutely needed. Part of the reasons he'd chosen Diarmuid as his replacement Servant was he'd factored the Celtic hero's fabled loyalty as a guarantee he wouldn't turn against him, but receiving this strange Lancer in his place added a whole new dimension of uncertainty to the proceedings that he didn't like at all. Well, if he wanted to change that, the first thing he'd need to do was asking…

"What is your name?"

Against his expectations, she replied quickly without needing being threatened with a Command Seal. "Tomoe. Tomoe Hotaru."

He frowned. An Oriental figure of myth, then. Like most of his peers, he'd always thought of the Orientals as lessers, so their mythology wasn't his field of expertise; but he still was decently well read on it regardless, being a complete cathedratic as he was. He exchanged a brief glance with his bride, hoping the name was familiar to her then, but her expression told him otherwise at first sight. And he sighed deeply. Perhaps summoning the Servant on Japanese grounds had been a mistake factoring into the equation.

Folding his arms behind his back, the aristocrat said, "What would you wish upon the Holy Grail then? Destruction? Harmageddon? I refuse to be a part of that."

"It's not about what I wish," she said, "and I have no personal interest on the Grail myself. If I had, I'd wish to know the touch of a friend again, to meet someone who once showed me kindness and love once more. But," here she paused, "I'm only a messenger of Saturn now. It must have placed me here for its purposes, not mine."

"Well, you serve _our_ purposes now," he told her. "I'm your Master, Lord Archibald Kayneth El Melloi. This is my wife to be, Sola Ui. Your sole goal under our command must be obtaining the Holy Grail for us. It shouldn't matter to you, since you claim having no use of your own for it."

She nodded. "Very well. If that's your heart's desire, it's what I owe you as a Servant."

"Perform well, and you'll still be rewarded in some way," he promised.

The girl said nothing.

"Take your time to think of a fitting reward," the man told her. "Leave the strategy to me."

"Yes, Master."

"Obey Sola Ui's orders as if they were mine. She'll supply you with prana, so be grateful and show her the due respect."

"Yes, Master."

He fumed, examining her expression before deciding she wasn't mocking him through her austere obedience. Part of him still wanted to be upset at her, for turning up as a weak looking Servant of ignote origins instead of a great hero of illustrious pedigree befitting him, but he was a well bred and trained magus and could feel a frightening amount of power brimming inside her. He didn't dare to outright belittle her just yet.

"I'm sorry you had to partake in this conflict being… so young," he stiffly said, trying to be human but being rather bad at it due to lack of enough practice.

"Not your fault," was Lancer's plain answer. Sola Ui grimaced, creeped out by her appearance and behavior alike.

Then the wide, deep purple eyes rotated slowly towards her, and Sola Ui felt her skin downright crawling up.

* * *

The longer Kotomine Kirei spent associated with the events of a Holy Grail War, the more he (normally someone impervious to surprise) grew acquainted with the stunning effects of the unexpected. First there'd been the matter of his own Servant, the unaccounted Assassin. Tokiomi had not been pleased when he learned about him; saying he'd found Kirei's Heroic Spirit to be uncouth and repulsive would have been almost a gross and dire understatement as Assassin himself was a person. But Tohsaka, a man of self restraint, had not faulted his former disciple. Assassin's regenerative abilities, which the fool never stopped boasting about, would still make Tohsaka's plan viable.

That was, if the Tohsakas could summon a Servant of their own at all. Weeks had passed by; the Einzberns, Matous, Lord El Melloi, and even an upstart from the Clock Tower had all handed proof of their Mastery to Risei. The old priest had even gotten readings of another manifestation in Fuyuki City, although the absence of a report to the Church pointed to this Master being some sort of wildcard outsider. Through all of this, however, the seals had failed to manifest on Tokiomi's flesh. This was unheard of; at some point they would have to appear on a member of each of the founding families, or a chosen delegate at the very least. Even the Matous with their dwindling lineage had achieved that nights ago already.

But Tokiomi, who had planned long in advance by securing the best of all available catalysts years ago, had not been blessed yet. Until, two nights ago, the seals had shown up at last.

On the tiny hand of Tohsaka's older daughter, Rin.

It had been a relief for Tokiomi all the same, at first. Even if it was improper thrusting a child into a Heaven's Feel, all Rin had to do was passing her Command Seals, no matter how and why they'd appeared in the first place, to her father. An easy enough procedure with the aid of a Church specialist, even easier between members of a family, fated to bear the same Magic Crests.

But that didn't work.

Risei tried it; then Kirei; then Tokiomi himself; then several consultants they called upon quickly, all reliable magi, discreet and knowledgeable... the stubborn seals, which remained firmly grafted onto Rin-chan's soft skin.

Assassin had found this terribly hilarious, suggesting Tokiomi to just cut Rin's hand off and carry it around himself if that was so much of an issue. Tohsaka grew outraged and, after demanding Kirei to control his Servant's tongue (an impossible task Kirei would not waste any command seals for, since, empty life or not, he still held to his instincts to preserve it, and he was sure Assassin would kill him at the first chance he got), the head of the house resolved to just forge ahead.

Tohsaka loved his child. Most illustrious magi only saw their offspring as tools for their own ends, but while Tokiomi had kept a distance from his second daughter, probably so her eventual departure would hurt him less, he developed a genuine affection for this little angel who now chanted before the fossilized husk set at the middle of the main hall of the magnificent Tohsaka palace. Rin was his pride and joy, his hopes for the future, his true reason to exist. Kirei understood all of this, even if he, for whom, his own daughter mattered nothing, could not relate.

Even so, he understood well how much it hurt Tokiomi to be doing this, even if his controlled expression and measured words never made it outright clear.

Always a fast learner and early adept, Rin got an immediate answer as soon as she finished with the instructions she'd been given. And then golden light sprang from the floor before her, and a regal figure that was the manifestation of opulence ascended proudly. So shiny and splendid, just by appearing, it made the finery of Tohsaka's abode look like a filthy cabin in comparison. A pinnacle of manly beauty, his hair matching the gold of his exquisite suit of armor, arms folded powerfully before his chest, standing in a pose that invited to reverence and self-humiliation.

"I am your King," he spoke, with a rich, strong voice that conveyed conquests and domain and might both through tone and words. "I am the first of all Kings and first of all Heroes, returned to claim what is rightfully mine back! Rejoice, for you are the first to witness my glorious reappearance! Thank yourselves, peasants, for having summoned Gilgamesh, Lord of Uruk, back to rescue your world from the abyss of his absence!"

Risei and Kirei were speechless. So was Tokiomi. Even though this was the result they had hoped for, seeing this manifestation in the flesh was impressive words all the same; even for Kirei, who had already experienced it firsthand with Assassin.

Rin was also awestruck, of course, her little mouth wide open, her eyes starry at what she'd just achieved. She looked up a this man of wonder and miracle that dwarfed her and, after a few attempts to speak again, asked curiously, "Are you an Archer, or a Caster?"

"Hah!" he laughed. "Classes are meaningless limitations to one as boundless as Gilgamesh! Even if your pathetic thaumaturgy may label me an Archer in an attempt to understand me, my many talents ran across... all..." He paused, now he'd deigned looking down at Rin's face. "... why do you look so familiar, I wonder?"

She smiled widely. "It must be because I'm your Master!"

* * *

 **To be Continued.**

* * *

 **Statistics:**

Class: Assassin.

Identity: Hahn Sho Lobo (roughly translated from Khund as 'He who Devours Your Entrails and Thoroughly Enjoys It').

Titles: The Main Man, The Ultimate Bastitch, Killer of the Cosmic Royalty.

 **Basic Stats:**

Alignment: Chaotic Evil.

Strength: A ++.

Mana: D.

Endurance: EX.

Agility: B.

Luck: A.

Noble Phantasms: B.

 **Class Skills:**

 _Presence Concealment_ : F (Trust us… Don't ask. Okay, it's actually E, but he said he'd kills us if we didn't give him an F, pleasedonttellhim).

Unusually for an Assassin, Lobo never made a point of carrying out his murders in secrecy, and unless bound by wording on a contract he'd rather kill his prey as noisily and with as much collateral damage as possible, all to increase his infamy as a troublemaker and sate his bloodlust. However, while he eschews making his own involvement into assassinations a secret, he has no real interest on divulging who ordered him to commit a hit, and can be persuaded on the subject with relative ease.

 _Battle Continuation:_ A.

Lobo is a stubborn son of a bitch who will not surrender in battle until his opponent is dead, no matter how maimed, mutilated or wounded he may be. Even when overwhelmed by superior numbers or force, he is a natural born master of clean getaways, which he often uses to set up ambushes and counterstrikes.

 _Independent Action:_ EX. (See also _From a Single Drop of Blood…_ )

Lobo has been banned from the afterlife, as Heaven, Hell and Purgatory have all declared him persona non grata. This, coupled with his amazing regenerative properties, has rendered him functionally immortal, and he can remain in this world indefinitely even after the death of his Master. Besides, Lobo is fully willing to consume human souls to sustain himself in case of need, and odds seem likely even the Throne of Heroes doesn't want him around and will pawn him off on Earth at the slightest chance. It's unknown what could ever kill Lobo and send him to the Throne of Heroes in the first place. Probably the heat death of the universe, but in any case it's for the best not thinking about it.

 **Personal Skills:**

 _Animal Dialogue:_ C.

Lobo, for all his many moral flaws, genuinely loves a species of space dolphins he's sworn to protect, and he's fond of Earth dolphins as well. In general, while he cares little to nothing about other animals, they still seem to attach themselves to Lobo, and at various points a gorilla, a bulldog and a flock of vicious Frag Penguins have been drawn to him as his pets.

 _Master of Bounting Hunting for Fun and Profit:_ A _++._

Lobo is an idiot at most fields, but when it comes to murder, he is a peerless genius able of great feats of planning intellect and scientific accumen, killing all other members of his species but his teacher with his chemistry project during high school graduation, after which he graduated himself valedictorian. This Skill allows Lobo quick access to almost any weapon from his vast arsenal to complete all but the most hopeless missions. While Lobo's first instinct in battle is attacking mindlessly, if that fails he's able of developing complex strategies to overwhelm his enemies.

 _Honor of The Main Man:_ C.

While Lobo is crude, callous, vulgar, careless, selfish, amoral, unhygienic, indecent, repulsive, cynical, greedy, abusive, inconsiderate, gluttonous, perverted, envious, aggressive, mean, loud, petty and cruel, he's a man of his word and once sworn to do something he'll do it no matter the odds against him. However, Lobo only follows the strict wording of what he's promised, and attempts to fool him into acting against his will tend to backfire horribly, as he'll find loopholes to turn unwanted orders against those who issued them, something to keep in mind when using Command Seals on him.

Lobo hates pretty much everyone, but a few individuals have gained his good graces: downtrodden cosmic driver Space Cabbie, Lobo's favorite diner owner Al and his waitress Arlene, vitriolic best bud Etrigan the Demon, and the members of superhero team The Authority. Should you join this short list, this Skill's effects will keep you from suffering serious injury during Lobo's rampages, although humiliation and affronts to your dignity and self esteem will invariably happen.

 **Noble Phantasms:**

 _From a Single Drop of Blood…:_ A.

Lobo's miraculous healing factor, inherited from his Czarnian species, allows him to regenerate destroyed or missing parts of his body in seconds to minutes, depending on the seriousness of the wound. Even regrowing his whole head after having it exploded will only take him a few hours at most, and in the meanwhile Lobo's headless body can keep functioning, although blind and erratic. Lobo can revive eventually even if all that's left from him is a single drop of blood; in life this ability used to be even more fearsome, allowing Lobo to create clones of himself from each drop of spilled blood, but thankfully it was neutered by Vril Dox, commander of cosmic law enforcement organization L.E.G.I.O.N.

 _Space Hawg 666:_ B.

Lobo's ride through the spaceways, a sleek, dark rocket motorcycle able to fly unscathed through black holes and loaded with all manners of deadly weaponry. While Lobo is a master at riding this vehicle, that doesn't give him the Riding ability, as he tends to destroy most other vehicles he takes and to kill all animals he mounts, space dolphins aside.

 **Summoning** : "This crap again?! Feetal's gizz! Oh well, I'm Assassin! But I'd rather go with Lobo! Th' Main Man! Numero Uno primo mass killer f'r hire, atcher service… 's long as ya can pay wit' lotsa sweet mana prisms an' quartzes an' medals, of course!"

 **Liked things** : "Of course it's booze! An' broads! An' lotsa an' lotsa carnage an' bloodshed! Those are the things a real Main Man craves! An' then there's my fishies, naturally. Th' only creatures in this fragged universe you can call noble an' graceful an'… Don't laugh now! Even if you're my Master I'll blow yer stinkin' face off!"

 **Disliked things** : "It's gotta be pansy do-gooders like Supey an' Goldstar, that creep. I can't stand them goodies who do things without expectin' fer a fair reward! What are they, idiots? They make things harder f'r the rest of us hard workin' fellas!"

 **Birthday** : "Happy birthday, Clyde! Let's start early an' go hit the nudie bar already! What? You don't know any? Dat's okay, we can start our own!"

 **Event** : "Wuzzat? Some kinda party? Awright! Let's go there, dweeb, on th' double! The Main Man never misses on a party he can crack up ta twelve!"

 **Holy Grail** : "A wish? I already gotta all I want from life! I'm free, strong, feared, smart an' incredibly handsome! But I guess I coulda wish fer a few million credits or sumthin'!"

* * *

 **Omake! Grail-kun's Consultation Room!**

"Grail-sama! Grail-sama!" Gilles De Rais bawled, throwing himself to his knees before the eerily smiling, black-drooling figure of the sitting Holy Grail of Fuyuki. "I haven't been summoned for the Fourth Heaven's Feel! Now how am I supposed to meet with Jeanne? **_JEANNE…!-!-!-!_** "

"My, my, Gilles-kun," Grail-kun said, and he'd have shaken his head as well had he been able to. "I can't believe you of all people are asking that!"

He threw a large knife before the crazed nobleman. Said nobleman slowly blinked his large, bulbous fish eyes, each in a different direction. "What am I supposed to do with this? Kill the dark fey and take her place back? I already have a book that can summon creatures from the great beyond! What does a knife have over that?"

Grail-kun giggled creepily. "Silly Gilles-kun, I'm not telling you to go stab her… I'm telling you to go stab yourself and stop bothering me already!"

"…" Gilles said. "Sorry, but I think I won't be doing that. Thanks for the gift anyway. I'm sure it might be useful later after all," he decided, placing it safely within the confines of his thick black robes.

"You're welcome," Grail-kun said.

"Then," Caster said after some hesitation, "what do you say if I use you to create my very own Jeanne to vanquish all those other Servants in the name of—"

"Been done before," Grail-kun said.

"But—!"

"More than once, even. We're aiming for material that kinda looks actually new even when it's being recycled, after all! Bring me a new twist on it and I might be convinced! Until then, shoo! Shoo!"

Caster got up from the floor with a dejected sad sigh, turned around and marched miserably out of the darkened room.

That was anticlimactic, wasn't it? Thank you for these fond wasted minutes of your valuable time, and see again you next chapter!


	2. Zero Hesitation

Across the worlds, through the eras, the Holy Grail War may take myriads of ways. It may be a desperate contest between stray children from a prior ritual, it may be an advanced simulation staged on a lunar colony in the far flung future. It may be a final stand against the demons that would erase human history from the seat of the King of Magic, or a bloody succession war in Ancient Rome. It may even be a televised games program or a demented car race. Sometimes in swimsuits.

But all of them feature the new against the old, the female principle against the male, the scrappy underdog against the grizzled and confident old dog of war with thundering jaws to match its bite.

The Fourth Fuyuki Heaven's Feel was no exception, as Tohsaka Rin faced Gilgamesh, peerless King of Uruk, in the former's palatial home.

The golden monarch began his strike with a bout of hearty laughter able to shatter any normal child's faith and self-esteem. "Bwa ha ha ha ha! You, my Master?! It is to laugh! From any grown man, I'd consider that claim a capital crime," at this point Tokiomi discreetly rubbed his own throat with a subtle flinch, "but from a child it is such a sweet jest! How laughable pitiful innocence can be at times!"

Rin pouted, pointing at the Command Seals on the back of her hand. "I'm not joking! See this? It's the proof I summoned you!"

He wiped the tears of laughter from his serpentine red eyes with a finger. "Poor youngling! It was my own willpower that brought me here where I'm sorely needed. You were at best just a conduit." Looking around the room, his gaze fell on Tokiomi, who had fallen to a knee before him, his head low. "From your appearance and the fear in your eyes, I deduce you are the insolent girl's father, aren't you?" he coldly asked him.

"Insolent…?" Rin-chan murmured, a small vein bulging on her forehead.

"Indeed, Sire," Tokiomi humbly said. "Please forgive her. She is used to dominance, as we are of a higher status than our contemporaries. A lower family would have never achieved the miracle of contacting someone of your magnificence."

Gilgamesh wasn't impressed. "If you are the best these times have to offer, then I truly fear to see the rest." He looked at the Kotomines next, pausing before Grail induced knowledge settled in, and he recognized their attire for what it was. "At least you had the good sense of bringing representatives of your faith for the occasion. High priests at the very lowest, I would expect…"

"Well, well, well!" an even taller figure said, appearing behind an uncomfortable Kirei and smoking a large cigar. "So 'tis the front guy, huh? Nice style, Goldilocks. Who's your hairdresser? Ma'am Fifi?"

Gilgamesh sneered, visibly disgusted at first sight. "Ugh! And who is this ill-smelling mongrel brought to offend my senses? Am I supposed to exterminate him?"

"This is my Servant, Assassin, Your Majesty," Kirei quickly said, while Tokiomi discreet but hastily pulled Rin towards himself protectively. "He is here to deal with all threats below your royal notice."

"I see," Gilgamesh grouched. "A lowly enforcer… Couldn't you have gotten someone better for me?"

"Hey, mister!" Assassin growled. "Lowly nuthin'! I'm th' best money can buy! I've razed thousands o' planets down ta th' ground! I'm Lobo! Motherfraggin' Main Man! Killer f'r hire extraordinarie, or however dat's spelt!"

Gilgamesh smiled venomously. "I hope you won't pretend I should pay this mercenary's salary from my pristine wealth, meant only for the noblest endeavors. Or will you?" he added dangerously.

"Never would dream of imposing that upon you, Sire," Tokiomi said, hands firm on Rin's shoulders to keep her quiet. "Assassin's fee and all related affairs are Kirei's responsibility. You will see, he is my disciple, of sorts, and we have thought of a plan that we think will make your victory even more—"

"You would believe I wouldn't be able to easily win this War on my own, no matter who would face me?!" Gilgamesh bristled, on the edge already.

"Not at all, of course we have the utmost faith on your legendary abilities," Tohsaka quickly replied, "but we also have thought we shouldn't bother you with anything below your importance…"

"Man!" Assassin grumbled. "What a buncha pants-wettin' pussies ya high fallotin' wizards turned out ta be! Guy just walks into yer own house an' you start whimperin' f'r mercy, right 'fore yer own kiddo, as soon as he looks your way!"

Gilgamesh smiled again, and Kirei already was taking notice of how mercurial he could be. "Cowardly indeed, don't you think? But there's wisdom on fearing the King's wraith, at all."

"Mebbe. Me, I've never been keen on wisdom an' stuff like dat!"

"I can tell."

"Yup, dat's me awright! An' proud of it too! I don't care at all f'r all dat stuff!"

"I'm glad you're aware you're a festering, fetid, rancid and revolting ignorant, offensive to the eyes, ears and smell of all that is good and refined," Gilgamesh said.

Assassin grinned from one ear to the other. It was a terrible thing to behold. "Goldie! Mebbe I wuz wrong 'bout ya! Ya flatterer, y'have just painted The Main Man down to a tee!"

Gilgamesh laughed again, shaking his head. "I like that you know your place, mongrel!"

"That, I do! And yer right, I'm the most sordid son o' a fraggin' bitch ever!"

"That's rich! You're so conscious of how much of a thoughtless brute you come across as!"

"Why thank ya, Clyde! I do my best effort on keepin' my public image, after all! Wouldn't wanta make folks ever think I've gone legit or sumthin'!"

Rin's eyes darted back and forth between the Servants, who stood their ground against each other forcing wide clenched murderous grins, then she asked her father, "Is this what they call the start of an odd friendship?"

 _Somewhere in Finland, for some reason, a very young Luviagelita Edelfelt sneezed._

"Okay, mebbe we can get along after all, Goldie! Just 'member!" Lobo pointed at Rin and told the King, "I saw 'er first, so in ten years, first dibs on dat ass are mine! Got that?!"

Archer shrugged. "You can have her. I have a feeling she will grow up to resemble someone I'd rather forget, after all!"

Rin made a small but very pronounced frown. "I'm not sure what are they talking about… but I'm sure I don't like it at all!"

Her father had simply gone too pale and blood drained to speak at all, eyes hopelessly wide open and sweat blanketing his whole face.

* * *

Nasu Kinoko and Type-Moon created and own _Fate/Stay Night_ , _Fate Prototype_ , _Fate Zero_ , _Fate EXTRA_ , _Fate Extella_ , _Fate Apocrypha_ , _Fate/Strange Fake_ , _Fate Kaleid Liner Prisma Illya_ , and _Fate Grand Order_.

All other characters and franchises are the intellectual properties of their respective copyright holders.

* * *

 **Fields of Fate.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Zero Hesitation**.

* * *

"Well, I leave it in your hands then, Shielder," Maris Billy Animusphere said, relaxed and contented, as he marched for the front gates of the Einzbern grounds, held open by two butler homunculi. He was wearing tall boots, a long and thick gray coat, and a large fur hat at obscured most of his face. "It shouldn't be difficult, right? You have followed the King for a long time now, and you've forgotten more about battle tactics than I've ever learned in the first place."

"But, still… are you sure this is wise, Master?" asked the girl standing in the snow, under a cloudy but momentarily calm sky. "Now I owe obedience to you as well. Don't you want to exert your authority more directly?"

He took a moment to smile at her. "I'm okay with anything Kiritsugu and Irisviel decide, really. If I'm needed, they'll know where to find me, and if I need you, you'll know from me right then and there."

The short haired girl nodded slowly, eyes well open, although only one was visible through her pale bangs. "If you say so…"

"I'm glad we're on the same wavelength, then!" Animusphere laughed jovially, already crossing the gates. "Well, gotta go, I can't allow myself to miss this flight. Don't worry, we'll meet again before the War is over, and afterwards, I'm sure we can take some time to celebrate with the Emiyas and the King…"

"Farewell until then, Master," she said softly, waving at him as he got into the limousine waiting for him. The man waved back before the chauffeur closed his door, and soon the vehicle had disappeared down the narrow and curved mountain road, while the gates of the estate closed once more.

Shielder sighed and turned around, walking back to Saber, who waited standing between the trees. "He doesn't fully trust them," the blonde said dryly, "or else he would have handed his Command Seals. I am not sure I can fault him, however."

"I'd rather fight at your side than against you at his command, all the same," Shielder made a small docile smile. "And Lady Irisviel seems to be a good person. I'm sure we'll be fine under her care."

"It is not she who concerns me," the dominant Servant said, looking blandly towards the towers of the stone castle behind them.

Shielder hummed to herself. "You mean Mister Kiritsugu, don't you? What about him?"

"Your Master may have left you behind," the woman in the blue dress explained, "but he at least took the time to talk to us first. Mine has refused to see or speak to us at all from the start; he is a coward, has something to hide, or both. I dislike the idea of fighting for someone whose true motives are unknown to me."

Shielder looked down. "Lady Irisviel said he only wishes for mankind's greater good…"

"And I wish to believe her," Saber replied. Her gaze was fixed on a tall window, from which a tiny girl waved down at them, held in her mother's arms. Shielder smiled widely and waved in return, but Saber did nothing, still sunk into a contemplative silence.

Had Shielder been another kind of knight, maybe she would have pointed out that the problem with Kiritsugu and Saber might be the two of them could be too alike after all.

* * *

Waver Velvet woke up slowly, hoping the events of the night before had been just a dream. They'd been so ridiculous and absurd they just had to be, which was a good thing to put his troubled mind to brief ease.

Because there was no way he'd missed on summoning Alexander the Great, after all the effort and risks put into it. No way he'd summoned, of all things, a talking winged unicorn instead. He decided, while getting up from his borrowed bed and then taking a shower, he'd simply forget that awful nightmare and just concentrate on tonight's ritual, which would not fail at all.

But he knew all too well, as he headed over to have breakfast with the old couple currently housing him, that he was only deluding himself. Struggling to hold the tears back, his only hope of sorts was the failed ritual meant the horse had disappeared on its own by now. Sure, it would mean returning home empty handed and in disgrace, right back where he had started or worse, but that was still better than to fight a Holy Grail War with a—

"I'm sure that's him," Mrs. Mackenzie's voice came to his ears right as he was opening the door to the modest dining room. And then Waver froze in place, going horribly pale. "Oh, good morning, Waver dear!" she warmly greeted him, just like she would have greeted the actual grandson they hadn't seen for over a decade. "Headmaster Celestia, this is our Waver. Waver, why hadn't you told us about the Headmaster? Were you saving it as a surprise to us?"

"S-S-Suh-Surprise?!" Waver gasped, looking at the saintly smiling tall and gorgeous woman sitting at the table with the marriage he'd hypnotized into providing him with free lodging one week ago. At first he couldn't recognize her at all, but past his initial shock, there was no mistaking her large eyes and wavy, oddly colored long hair, or the combination of her milky skin with her pristine white business suit. The pastel colored nightmare had struck again!

Glenn Mackenzie nodded, sipping from his cup of coffee. "Don't you remember? She said you called her over to help with your studies, isn't that right, Headmaster?"

The woman, who otherwise didn't look like a horse at all now, nodded, but when she spoke, her musical voice was exactly just like that of the horned unicorn. "Indeed. To be honest, I haven't taught in a while, but I'll do my best, as I already told young Waver. Not to blow my own horn, if you'll excuse the expression, but I've had a fair rate of success with promising students like him…"

"C-Could we talk in private for a minute, please?!" Waver begged in a strangled voice.

* * *

"W-What did you think you were doing there?!" Waver demanded, teetering at the edge of a full breakdown, after he had all but dragged his Servant behind the house of the Canadian immigrants.

Rider blinked. "Oh my! You never mentioned I couldn't make myself comfortable, and I love making new friends, so I thought there would be no damage from—"

"No, no, it doesn't work that way, even if you don't look like a horse anymore!" he despaired. "We aren't supposed to involved mundanes into Holy Grail War affairs! H-How did you change anyway?! Is this your real form? Why didn't you have it from the start?!"

She frowned slightly. "Please get a hold of yourself, Waver. First of all, if you really wish to keep these affairs a secret from those you'd call 'mundanes', you should lower your voice immediately. Second, this is an alternate form of mine, achieved through one of one of my Noble Phantasms, the Crystal Mirror. It grants me the appearance of another aspect of my legend, to better fit in with your society, but it is not the primary figure I had in life. And third… I'm disappointed you resorted to hypnotizing people you were supposed to keep away from the dangers of a war. Not only did you do that to those poor chickens, but must you be a liar as well?"

His face twitched several times. "H-How did you know—What else was I supposed to do?! I, I'm not rich like Lord El Melloi! I couldn't pay the rent of a Japanese house, the prices for that here are insane! A-And why did you call me a liar?! You lied to them as well!"

"I did not," she soberly shook her head, with great dignity. "The aspect of my legend whose shape I took was indeed a school headmaster. And I'm here to help you with your studies, as well."

"N-No, you aren't! You're here to help me with the Grail War! You agreed to it and everything!"

She folded her arms. "I did, but that doesn't deny what I told them either. Through this War, I'm hopefully going to teach you a few things you need to learn about life and friendship."

"Friendship, she says!" Waver took his head back, looking all the way up to the sky. "What, what does friendship have to do with a war? Wars are all about demolishing others!"

"For starters, we cannot win this War if we aren't friends," Rider said.

He blinked. "Uh? Hey, hey, n-now, listen, all the books say, a Master is a Master and a Servant is his tool. It's, it's not like I have anything against you, but that's just the way it is, Masters and Servants aren't supposed to be friends, it's only a relationship of mutual interest and nothing else!"

Rider stared at him with the full air of a sorely disappointed teacher.

"It's… It's better that way, honestly…?" Waver flinched, feeling the pressure under those beautiful eyes.

Rider sighed. "That's okay. Twilight Sparkle once used to think just like that, too. There's still time. I'm sure you'll have learned the most important lessons by the time we are done here."

"Who is Twilight Sparkle?" Waver asked curiously, although, unlike most of us, he hadn't found that name to be ridiculous sounding for a girl or woman. He was from the Clock Tower after all, where an abomination like 'Scandinavia Peperocino' would have sounded sensible to most magi.

And his own name was 'Waver Velvet', for Pete's sake.

* * *

"I've brought breakfast," Berserker announced, in a set of street clothes borrowed from Kariya, while entering the small, seedy motel room. He set the bread, lettuce and ham on the table and began making two sandwiches. "I hope you won't mind if I take one," he said. "It's been a while since I allowed myself one of these simple pleasures."

"Eat it all if you want," muttered his Master from the single old bed, clutching his stomach with both hands. "I… I don't think I can eat any."

Berserker sat down on a chair to eat slowly. "I'm sorry I'm not that kind of Doctor," he honestly said.

Kariya chuckled darkly. "This illness of mine… it's nothing any physician could treat successfully. It's magical in nature."

"That's what I meant, a magical doctor," Berserker said. "I used to know one, the best at what he did…" For a moment, he smiled vaguely. "And then, of course, there was this other guy always saying he was the best at what he did, too, but that one was no doctor. Unless you count disemboweling people with metal claws as a surgical procedure. Are you sure you don't want a bite? You aren't going to last long like that."

"I'm not going to last long, anyway," Kariya rolled around to face the wall, starting to wish Berserker had been an incoherent brute after all. "Don't worry, I can at least make it to the end of the War."

Berserker paused in his measured breakfast. "That girl you wish to save… aren't you just going to make her miserable if you simply quit and let yourself die after rescuing her?"

"I'm a dead man, and she's got living parents to return to," Kariya groaned. "She'll forget me before long, and that's okay. As long as they're fine, nothing else matters."

"Maybe if we pulp this food down to a mass, you could swallow it then?" Berserker was pondering. "Have you tried that?"

Kariya punched the wall. "I'm a dead man!" he repeated. "The dead don't belong along the living!"

"That's a funny thing to say for a man who has just revived someone who should have stayed dead," Berserker replied, without sounding amused at all. "I see, your problem is the opposite of mine then. You have reasons to live, but want to give up and die. I should have died for everyone's sake, but… a side of me would never let me die until it was too late."

Kariya glanced back at him over his shoulder. "How did you finally die, then?"

"Messily. There could be no other way."

"That doesn't tell me anything. Are you supposed to be invulnerable? Was it a curse placed on you?"

Berserker gave a somber nod. "Curses take many forms. Not all of them come from magic."

Kariya grouched, pulling the holey bedsheets up to his neck. "Whatever, as long as it's a curse that can be used in the battlefield."

"It is," Berserker confirmed, sounding extremely distant in between bites. "It's all it ever was good for."

Kariya's silence after that took a long while, with Berserker finishing his breakfast, leaving enough bread and fillings in the event his Master changed his mind. At last, said Master said, "Thank you for taking those odd jobs, so you could pay this room, and that food. A Servant shouldn't have to do that for his Master. I… I'm sorry if I offended you."

"I understand. Pressure and grief often made me into an imbecile," Berserker shrugged it off. "I know how it feels, to have your world crumbling around you. Don't worry about making me mad. Insults aimed at me… they don't upset _him_. If anything, _he_ hates me more than anyone else."

Kariya was puzzled over that strange answer. "What was that supposed to mean? You have a dual personality, right? Are you…" then understanding finally hit him, and he sat up on the bed despite the pain and effort it taxed from him, "Doctor Jekyll!"

"I wish," Berserker said, gloomy and depressed once again. "Hyde at least could be restrained, he could be put out of his misery through a bullet or a glass of poison. My personal hell is much harsher than Henry Jekyll's. Do you think death is bad, Mr. Matou? For me, death was only the beginning. My actual nightmare began when I revived, right at the middle of that massive gamma blast…"

* * *

 _Germany:_

A normally taciturn man and his young daughter played together in the pure snow, sharing laughter and joy. It was a sight Artoria Pendragon, King of the Bretons, was not used to. She never met her true father, and her foster father, while loving in his own way, had been a cold and distant man. As for her own son, well…

Standing by the window of Irisviel's study room along Shielder, the blonde looked down at the frolicking duo, carefully studying her Master's expression. It was the first time she had seen the man smiling, as he dodged the snowballs tossed by an energetic Illyasviel, and his happiness seemed genuine even if tainted by a pang of melancholy; contagious to Shielder, who laughed softly to herself with a hand on her mouth. Saber, however, was more perplexed than anything else.

"Wow!" Shielder commented as one of the balls finally hit its target, sending the father spinning back through the air until landing, in a way that almost looked carefully practiced, headfirst down into a small bank of snow by a pine tree. "Lady Illyasviel has a good throwing arm, doesn't she?"

"I don't understand it, Lady Irisviel," Saber said, ignoring the remark from her subordinate. "I don't expect for your husband to address me with the same familiarity he reserves for you, but why has he avoided any and all contact with the two of us? Is it that the revelation of our true forms has disappointed him to that degree?"

The silver haired woman looked up from the journal entries she had been revising and correcting at her desk. It was a collection of annotations she had been taking during the process of adapting as a vessel for the Holy Grail, to better aid in Professor Animusphere's research. "You mean… disappointed about you being girls? Hardly. Father, perhaps, but not him. It's true we were very shocked at first, but Kiritsugu's not the type to underestimate anyone because of their gender. Why, the person who taught him all he knows about fighting was a woman."

"Then what is his reason to act so?" Saber inquired. "Is he simply unwilling to work with others at all?"

"No, that isn't it either," Irisviel said. "He does work with others, but… well, I'm afraid your approach to fighting and his wouldn't mesh at all. You are, after all, two paragons of knightly honor, and from what I have managed to gather, his own style of combat is… how could we put it…"

"Is he a specialist on poisons, secret operations, assassinations and undercover incursions?" Shielder asked, looking away from the window at last. "Because we had someone just like that in the court. Sir Palamedes."

Irisviel paused at the unexpected answer. "W-Well… and did you work at these operations directly with him, or did you just let him go and operate on his own, then?"

Saber nodded. "That is a very good point, Madame. Just a minor correction. Sir Palamedes was, as a matter of fact, a woman."

Irisviel recoiled slightly, startled, and after another moment asked, "Please forgive my curiosity, but exactly how many of you were women after all?"

Shielder and Saber looked at each other before the former took a deep breath in. "Actually, My Lady, listing the men instead might just be somewhat faster. There was my father, Sir Lancelot, of course…"

Saber nodded. "A great knight without equal."

"… and then there was Sir Gawain…" Shielder continued.

Saber nodded again. "A man of the utmost integrity and loyalty."

"… and we never could forget Sir Agravain…" Shielder went on.

"So sadly misunderstood was he," Artoria stoically said, "but his heart was full of nobility and good intentions."

"… and the King's own brother, the remarkable Sir Kay…"

Artoria placed a fist on her own heart. "The first of my companions, he was a steady rock of support to the end."

"… and I could not fail to mention Sir Jason…" Shielder added in a lower voice, almost reluctantly.

Saber's youthful face took on a deep and fierce scowl. "The true snake in our midst. Damned be his name, and may demons plague him forevermore."

Irisviel blinked. "Oh… Excuse me? I don't believe I've read on any Sir Jason in any of the books Kiritsugu got for me…"

Saber smiled harshly. "So the traitor has been forgotten by history? I am glad. Could not have happened to a more deserving knave. I do not even blame Mordred, but I do blame him from the bottom of my heart." A pause. "Of course, I apologize for that sort of grudge being unfit the honor of a knight, but it cannot be helped. He was just that much of a despicable—"

Shielder nodded and said quickly, before her King could go on a further tirade against the vile betrayer, "And lastly, there was Sir Perceval…"

Saber regained the smile that was pure and noble. "Another of my best men! Not excessively intelligent, but a fine warrior all the same!"

"… and last but no least, the brave Sir Robin!" Shielder finished happily.

"O courageous Sir Robin!" Artoria sniffled grandly. "Nerves of steel, acting worth of a god of a stage, always drawing the enemy to him and away from us!"

Irisviel blinked again. "… Sir Robin? I'm afraid I haven't heard of him either…"

Saber and Shielder were immediately shocked and appalled, much unlike what had happened on the topic of Sir Jason. "Sir Robin… forgotten?!" the latter all but screamed.

"It cannot be!" Saber was similarly horrified. "His legend… lost to time? No one remembers anymore, how brilliantly would he fool the adversary? How he would selflessly risk his life, luring whole armies after him with his fleeting feet and quick intellect? All the traps and ambushes he would set for our benefit?"

"… I beg your pardon?" Irisviel asked.

"Without fail, at the worst of battle, although sometimes earlier," Shielder narrated, "Sir Robin would escape, fabulously feigning shrieking and manic terror, and while the enemy rushed after him, attracted by his high pitched laments so wonderfully forged, we would take advantage and strike at them from behind! No matter what, the strategy always worked. Well, except for that last time. I wonder what became of him then…?"

"No one knows," Saber somberly said, "but I hope he has gone to his proper reward. Sir Robin! Bravest man of the Round Table!" she shouted, rising a fist, which then heartily collided against Shielder's own.

 _Wasn't that… just cowardice? And is that honorable striking from behind anyway?_ Irisviel thought, with a sweatdrop attached to her head while witnessing this heartfelt exchange. Then she rasped and tried to laugh it off. "Ah ha ha, well, I'm sure other Artorian sources may be more complete than mine! And the rest of you were… girls, right?"

"Basically, yes," Shielder nodded.

Irisviel paused once more, then asked, "… and Merlin…?"

Shielder closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers, up and down and back up. "Sorry, My Lady, we assumed you only were asking about us knights. Merlin was a man, indeed…"

"Wise and powerful, none could compare," Artoria said enthusiastically. "A mage above all mages, truly worth of his legend and assorted merchandise. The best guide and teacher a King could ever ask for…"

 _"Dirty old crazy man,"_ Shielder confided in a whisper, leaning over to speak into Irisviel's ear while Saber ranted on the mystical sage's many great qualities, oblivious to anything else for now.

Iri just nodded slowly.

* * *

 _Fuyuki City:_

Fujimaru Shirou had been having a perfectly normal day fitting a perfectly normal little boy. He'd woken up early in the morning, taken a bath and breakfast with his parents, gone to elementary school, returned home, and then went out to play Capsaba with friend and neighbor Sajyou Ayaka in his front yard. See? Perfectly average day, no worries.

"… Onee-sama's reacting well to the medication, thanks for asking," the tiny and frail looking brown haired girl with oversized glasses said while her small Capsaba knight in shining armor pummeled on Shirou's lion wielding a large slab of meat as a cub, with his toy sword. Both children looked up as a young man approached the house next door, whistling whimsically to himself. "Is that him?" she asked.

"Yeah, he is!" the redhaired boy waved at the young man as the guy stuck his keys into the front door. "Good morning, Uryuu-san!"

"Hmm?" the man looked at them and smiled, Ayaka shyly giving a step back. "Ah, hello, Shirou-kun, what's up! Look, sorry I can't play any Capsaba today, but I'm in kind of a hurry, see? I found myself a new part-time job, so…"

Ayaka only breathed easier when Mr. Uryuu had closed the door behind myself. "I don't like him," she said. "There's something weird about that man…"

Ryyunosuke actually overheard her, but paid it no mind as he marched into his parents' house. "Hey, dad!" he called over to the man reading the newspaper on his favorite couch. "You're in luck, I'm moving out today!"

The older man barely lowered his newspaper enough to glare sternly at his son from above it. "Well, it was about time! So? You got yourself a decent job at last?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be working for a foreigner and seeing how it turns out," Ryuunosuke calmly said, heading to his bedroom. "It should go okay, we've got a lot of common interests…"

The older man replied with a grunt as Ryuunosuke locked himself in his room, starting to pack up his things. It was then that Caster materialized herself beside him. "I could feel decent magical potential in that young woman," she aloofly said, a hand stroking her chin. "Are you going to kill them?"

"Noo-ope, not yet, they're neighbors," Ryuunosuke shrugged without looking back at her. "If they disappear, the police will start by asking here. Then they'll find out about Onee-chan's own disappearance five years ago, and in no time I'll become the prime suspect. Can't risk that until we're kings of the world or whatever that Grail thing makes us into."

Caster smiled. "So you are not that stupid after all! Good, good."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you all this time, lady." He zipped his now full bags up, then tossed one over each shoulder. "So, where to now?"

"Diablo is scouting for a proper base of operations as we speak," Caster said. "Oh, and speaking of him." She moved towards the window where her crow familiar had just landed, perched on its frame. She petted its head lovingly. "What is it, my dear?" To its crawings, she chuckled darkly. "Most excellent, my friend. Let us go there, in that case."

Ryuunosuke blinked, scratching himself on a cheek. "Hell of a royal estate agent,right…? You look very pleased!"

Coldly, she laughed. "As I should be, indeed, Ryuunosuke! Diablo has just located the perfect dark castle to start my new empire from. Once I have secured that site, spreading my darkness through this city will be as easy as breathing. Before they know it, the other Servants will be hopelessly surrounded from all sides!"

"Cool, I guess," Uryuu shrugged with an easy smile. "Dad's always saying I should be more ambitious already, so let's get moving! It should be entertaining if nothing else…"

Next door, Ayaka and Shirou looked up again from their latest duel of Capsaba at the sound of loud joint laughter coming from the neighbors' residence. "I told you he was creepy…" Ayaka said with a little shudder.

"Okay, I'll give you he's a little bit strange," Shirou replied. "But he's harmless! Dad always says he's too stupid to be a danger to anyone…"

* * *

 _Germany:_

Illyasviel and her father now sat on one of the stone benches in the luxurious hunting grounds of the Einzberns, looking up at the quiet sky after an extended session of frolicking in the snow.

"How long will you take, Kiritsugu?" she innocently asked, her hands both on her small lap.

He smiled faintly, letting one of his hands rest tenderly on her scalp. "Only a couple of weeks, maybe three," he promised. "After that, I'll come back to you as quick as I can. That's not that long a wait, is it, Illya?"

She paused, counted with her fingers over a few moments, and then lowered her hands back, shaking her head. "Noo-oo! It's okay, I have Sella and Leysritt to keep me company until then. And Mother, of course."

"… mother?"

She nodded firmly. "Mother told me that, even if she won't make it back in a way I can see her again with my eyes, she'll still be at my side always. So you don't have to worry, Kiritsugu. It won't be the same, but I promised her I'd be strong. As long as I'm with you and the girls, I know I can do it."

"I… I'm sure you will, Illya," the man managed to say, with a hard dry knot in his throat, hugging his child against himself. "You always have been strong. Always will be."

The single plane ticket safely stuffed deep into his breast pocket felt like it weighed a full ton now. Tonight, he would leave his daughter and the shared, warm life of nearly a decade behind forever; even if he won—and at that this point **not** winning was not an option anymore, if it ever had been—he would return home without Irisviel, having robbed Illya of her mother forever. And then what?

Of that, he could not be certain. In the new world he would forge, a child would still need her mother. No matter how many other children he benefitted, he was stealing the most important part of his own daughter's life. His only bitter consolation, for a lack of a better word, was the Einzberns would have sacrificed Irisviel regardless of his presence or absence. At the very least, he tried to tell himself now and in the long sleepless nocturnal hours staring at his ceiling, he had allowed Illya to exist in the first place, and Irisviel a chance to experiment something beyond the icy walls of her father's fortress, even if only by proxy. Surely that had to be worth something, he would have professed to God had he felt any faith on Him.

And yet, the sensation of being a hypocrite only trying to justify his own selfish desires would always return to him as soon as those thoughts were expressed in his tormented mind. It is easy feeling good about oneself when one argues his own actions are for the greater good, but is the willingness to sacrifice others for those goals ultimately tools for said common good, or for the sense of self accomplishment that would follow?

And most importantly, would Illya ever understand that, after everything was said and done? Should she in the first place?

He tightly held this child who would never have a normal life. In a perfect world he could just massacre the Einzberns and flee with his loved ones to Japan, start all over in a quiet house, maybe have another child, perhaps a boy, a younger brother for her… Irisviel would love that, too…

A normal life with Illyasviel going to a school and having friends her own age. A life unmarred by the bane of magic and the spectre of the Heaven's Feel. But Emiya Kiritsugu did not dare to dream that much.

 _"Please forgive me,"_ he whispered against his child's scalp, placing a desperate soft kiss on it. She reached over and quietly rubbed his shoulder, without understanding but thinking she did.

"It's only a couple weeks, Kiritsugu… Fourteen days, see? Fourteen days…"

It had started snowing again, softly for the time being.

But it wouldn't take long for it to develop into another wild blizzard.

* * *

Night fell over Fuyuki City, and we turn our eyes towards another residence of a founding family for the Heaven's Feel ritual. Several familiars were on guard around the grounds of the Tohsaka palatial estate, just out of range enough to keep an efficient watch without disrupting enough as to be wiped out in retaliation. While the wards around the walls of the manor kept mundanes from seeing or hearing anything extraordinary happening within, familiars were enchanted with the means to bypass such measures more or less easily.

Matou's insects in the trees. Animusphere's bats, equipped with miniature cameras that had been Emiya's idea. Lord El Melloi's mice, scurrying along the sidewalks in nervous patrols. Many are the espionage tools of the magi, a society used to distrust and mutual backstabbing, especially in the eve of a momentous occasion such as a Grail War. And all those watchful eyes bore witness to this particular War's opening salvo, signaled at first by an apparently innocent but decidedly unusual tiny new star suddenly streaking through the clear skies.

 ** _"NAAAA-TURAL BORN KIIIIILLERRRR!-!"_** howled a madly joyous voice as a large flying vehicle zoomed from above towards the manor. Elongated to a disturbingly phallic degree and ornated with macabre skull motifs, it was unlike anything the Masters had seen before, and so was its driver, now visible as he came close enough, scratching his stomach while singing hideously, _**"BORN IN A WOOOORLD GOOO-OOOONE MAAAAA-AAAAAD!"**_

With bated breath, each scrying Master waited. Their familiars stuck to their spots of surveillance, watching this monstrous man clad in black leather hover above the luscious gardens, past thick brick and stone walls protecting the secrets inside from the eyes and ears alike of those not initiated in the mysteries of magicraft. Then this hulking being hopped down to land boots first on the carefully manicured lawn, gleefully brandishing a large, rusty hook and chain around.

"Yo!" he called out with a roar that would have alarmed the whole neighborhood, if not for the standard magus privacy measures. "Tohsaka Tokiomi, time ta pay th' piper, ya bastitch! Come out an' play if yer mommy will let ya, ya bearded big chicken! An' bring yer Servant too, assumin' he's man 'nuff ta go a few rounds wit' th' Main Man!"

It was not unheard of for Servants to display boisterous or eccentric, even often unpleasant, behavior. Madness was a frequent part of the genius that would elevate a soul to the Throne of Heroes, and magi who entered this most dangerous of games were advised to keep this in mind. Even so, this Servant startled even the hardened Zouken and Kayneth as he marched towards the front doors of the mansion, scratching his crotch with a hand while the other shot around a massive handgun, not the kind of weaponry expected from Legendary Spirits.

"I'm comin' fer ya then, big baby!" the brute yelled, blasting the heads of several statues of illustrious ancestors of the family. "Ya better prepared two elegant an' fancy graves, one fer ya an' one f'r whatever scrawny punk ya managed ta summon! Not that I'll leave 'nuff of either ta fill a—"

And then another voice, confidant, manly and haughty, filled the air. Much more refined but no less harsh and callous in each pompous word full of arrogance and pride. "Who is this noisy worm who would crawl from the gutter to try and disturb the King's rest? Nobody, that's who!"

"Who the frag…?" the intruder grunted, looking up. Standing on the rooftop of Tohsaka's house with his arms folded, a golden figure of flashy and virile posture presided over the scene, a picture perfect image of what magi thought when told the words 'Heroic Spirit'. Of this, there was no doubt whatsoever.

The golden man laughed. "Only a simple vagrant! A mad mendicant who soiled himself and now knocks on my door, begging for attention! Very well. I am generous with the unfortunate who lost their minds, so I shall let you partake on a few of my treasures before your demise!"

"Partake on this, nancy-boy!" the other Servant barked, taking aim and shooting at the golden man's chest plate, the shots each bouncing harmlessly off the armor. At the same time, the blonde gestured, darkly amused, and the air above him rippled open and opened itself, two large holes in the fabric of time and reality suddenly vomiting a myriad of sharp instruments of doom down on Tokiomi's lawn.

The familiars twitched and shook, and their masters could only gape at the fabulous display. Furiously, the twin sources of blades bombarded the unfortunate Servant with a primal symphony of war sounds that shattered the night, as hundreds of swords, daggers, scimitars, sabers, knives, and assorted cutlery descended on their common target, quickly reducing it to a fine red mist…

The Masters, from their safe vantage posts, gasped. Nothing human, or that had been once human, could have survived that. And yet, now the brutal barrage had finally paused, the feral invader still stood defiantly, with a grin even. His clothes were reduced to shreds and his body bled copiously all over, but he remained firm on his feet even now, while dislodging a screwdriver from one of his temples, ignoring the shower of blood bursting from the wound.

"Really, Clyde? _Really?!_ " With a disgusted snort, he tossed the screwdriver and the now useless hand cannon away, and instead pulled out a pair of really big machetes, one for each lacerated hand. "'Kay! That wuz a neat trick, I'll admit it. Care ta see if yer just as good up close 'n personal?"

The demigold of gold raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Interesting… Looks like being kicked so often has made this mongrel as tough of skin as he is on mine sublime eyes. Hah hah!" he laughed, pulling two longswords out of his vortexes and leaping down to strike at the wounded Servant with them. "Far from my honor to deny a dying man his last wish! If you are even a man, that is!"

"Ask any girl an' she'll tell ya I am, Blondie!" his adversary growled, blocking his first downward slash with a machete. Despite being pierced all over and through with all manners of sharp weapons, looking like a walking pin cushion of swords more than anything else, he still moved fast enough to match his agile enemy as the two fought along the ruined lawn, blades continuously clanging against each other. "How 'bout ya?! I've seen girl scouts rougher-lookin' than ya, bastitch!"

It was the first battle between Servants in the Fuyuki Fourth Heaven's Feel.

And it was hell on Earth already.

* * *

 **To be Continued.**

* * *

 **Statistics** :

Class: Shielder.

Identity: Sir Galahad of Corbenic.

Titles and Aliases: The Knight of the Shield, Mash Kyrielight (when traveling with Saber and Irisviel von Einzbern).

 **Basic Stats** :

Alignment: Lawful Good.

Noble Phantasm: A.

Strength: C.

Mana: B.

Endurance: A.

Agility: D.

Luck: C.

 **Class Skills** :

 _Magic Resistance_ : A.

Galahad, the illegitimate child of Sir Lancelot du Lac, has been blessed with resistance to diverse type of magic continued possession and prolonged contact and mastery of Lord Camelot, the invincible shield forged from the foundation of the Round Table itself, meant to repel the vile and powerful arts of the King's half-sister Morgan Le Fay. The shield's properties have been passed onto her to some degree, once allowing her to rescue her father from the enticing spells of Castle Anthrax. However, as Galahad never drank liquor in life, she didn't have the chance to develop immunity to magics consumed through liquids. Otherwise, she could even withstand the touch of Hassan of Serenity with no ill effects.

 _Riding_ : C.

Like other Knights of the Round, Galahad engaged into regular long spans of horse riding through the King's military campaigns and assorted crusades. She will be similarly apt at driving modern land vehicles, although Legendary Beasts, aerial and water means of transportation are beyond her control.

 **Personal Skills** :

 _Transient Wall of Snowflakes_ : C.

A power born from Galahad's selfless devotion to her comrades and their cause, and her willingness to protect them. When protecting allies or an allied territory, she will convert her mental fortitude into a buff of global defense, boosting her overall protection range.

 _Obscurant Wall of Chalk_ : D.

Another defensive skill, this one has a more concentrated rank, centering onto a single target. This person or object will be protected to such a degree all attempts to strike at them will be futile unless backed up by skills or Noble Phantasms ranked A+ or above. However, getting this skill to work correctly in the first place may be difficult; Galahad's strong instincts to protect everyone make it hard for her to concentrate on a single individual overlooking everybody else.

 _Shield of Rousing Resolution_ : A.

A skill that temporarily raises Galahad's self defense and draws in an opponent's attack. Used along Galahad's Noble Phantasm, it can increase its rank to A+, A++ or even EX, depending on Galahad's own resolution and drive at the moment.

 **Noble Phantasm** :

 _Lord Camelot: The Now Far Off Ideal Castle_ : A.

The ultimate measure of protection provided by the Round Table. In accordance with Galahad's faith and courage, her shield will work as a barrier extending far beyond its own physical limits, covering a much wider area even if logically it shouldn't be blocking it from damage.

As long as Galahad holds the shield, this Noble Phantasm will remain in effect until the threat has passed. In extreme cases, even if the attack should surpass the shield, the damage will be transferred to Galahad's body exclusively, and the shield itself will keep on functioning to protect others even for several moments after the destruction of Shielder's own physical form—the ultimate sacrifice of a knight for her kingdom.

Summoning: "I am Servant Shielder, at your service, Master. What are your orders?"

Liked things: "The blue sky, the green earth, camping with friends and listening to songs… those are the things I like…"

Disliked things: "I definitely don't like it when Father is acting foolishly. Honestly, he can be so embarrassing…"

Birthday: "Happy birthday! We should be telling all our friends about this, shouldn't we? I'm sure we can throw you the party this occasion merits!"

Event: "I have just received intelligence a special phenomenon is occurring, Master. We should be getting there at once! It's a unique chance to get rare items, you know!"

Holy Grail: "Hadn't I sent it to the Heavens once? Why, after that, would they bother creating more of them? A copy never could surpass the original!"

 **Extra Dialogue:**

"Assassin, uh… Ugh, sorry, I've never felt comfortable when that person's around…" (When you have Assassin Lobo).

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

This version of Shielder takes from the original, unused concept for the character from way back into the preliminary design stages for _Fate/Stay Night_ , where she would be the 'Stray Servant' originally summoned for the Fourth War with her own route. I'm also taking some inspiration from the _Fate Harem Antics_ fanfic, in that there Galahad was always a female in life. All in all, it seems the Einzberns in this continuity will always try to cheat around the system somehow by having two Servants serving their interests at once, but then again, it's not like Tokiomi and the Kotomines have any authority to criticize them on this subject either.

Did anyone notice the parallel between this Caster and Gilles De Rais? Disney's _Sleeping Beauty_ was mostly based on Charles Perrault's version of the fairy tale… who also wrote _Bluebeard_ inspired on the stories about De Rais. There was some thought put into this, people. Not too much, since it's me, but give me a break, it's not like I'll ever make it to the Throne of Heroes because of my brilliance.

According to Fate Grand Order, the Holy Grail War Maris Billy fought in took place around the same time period the Fifth War took place in the regular, main Fate continuity. That would mean the Maris Billy portrayed here would be ten years younger than he was when he and Caster Solomon won their canonical War; at this point Olga Marie shouldn't even have been born yet. I'm assuming, however, Olga Marie took in looks after her mother, which is why, when Maris Billy saw Iri, he thought on his wife (they should be a very young couple at this point) having silver white hair as well.

Saber and Shielder's remembrances about Camelot show basically the same backstory I had for the Camelot of _Unequally Rational and Emotional_. Kay and Merlin were basically the versions from Walt Disney's _The Sword in the Stone_ , although Artoria's nostalgia must be coloring her view of Kay; while after her being crowned Kay indeed became much more loyal and protective of her, he never stopped being a big idiot, not that much better than Percival (see below). Taking a page from T.H. White's _The Once and Future King_ , Merlin ages backwards, so while he would have been an old man indeed around the times of Camelot, by present day he should have his much more youthful and hormonal self from _Grand Order_.

Sir Jason is Jason Blood of the DC Universe, later punished by Merlin, who bonded him to Etrigan the Demon. Sir Perceval is based on the version from, all things, Capcom's arcade game _Knights of the Round_ , where he was the big strong and slow guy to go along with Arthur's Jack of All Stats and Lancelot's Fragile Speedster. To reflect this, I think of him as a huge, stupid hulking brute of a dude, good hearted but with all the intellectual and vocal range you'd expect from a big lug from a fighting game of the nineties. If you don't know Sir Robin, I'll have to sic Shadow Crystal Mage on you. Palamedes, Tristan, Ywain (not to be confused with Gawain), Bors, Balin and Beldivere are all from the videogame _Eiyuu Senki_ , a.k.a. 'You Thought Fate was Bad with the Gender Swaps? Here,Hold my Beer While I Show You'. Agravain, Lancelot, Mordred, Gareth and Gawain are all from proper _Fate_ Lore. I especially like the Type-Moon version of Agravain and I hope the Camelot stage of Cosmos in the Lostbelt makes him playable at best.

Well, those are all the comments for this chapter. Hope to see you guys and gals again soon enough.


	3. Zero Sympathy

The ancient versus the modern. The elegance versus the crude, raw brutality. The beauty versus the ugliness. The earthly versus the alien. The front lawn of the Tohsaka manor was witness to a clash for the ages as Archer and Assassin collided bestially, time and time again, bashing dual machetes against twin longswords. Neither fighter was stylishly skilled, but they moved with power and killer instinct to more than compensate for it.

"I must confess, you have surpassed my expectations, mad dog!" Gilgamesh congratulated Lobo, with a smile that was as gorgeous as it was cruel. "You never shall be worthy of sitting by my table, but I still might throw some scraps out my window to fill your belly, if you know your place as to wait outside!"

"Yer not too weak either, pretty boy!" Lobo laughed. "But don't let that go to your head! Whatever ya do, tonight Tohsaka Tokiomi draws his last wine-filled breath!"

"I call no man my master!" Gilgamesh growled, throwing a feint that fooled Lobo and gave him an opening to chop the Assassin's right arm off. "But your very existence offends me, so I will not allow to succeed, just on general principle!"

"Psche! Ya think dat's gonna slow me down?" Lobo swung with his (in ever sense of the word) left arm. "It'll take more than dat to..." A moment later, Gilgamesh sliced again, this time cutting Assassin's head off his neck with a geyser of blood. "Okay, okay, dat's better!" the head said as it flew up. "Still not 'nuff, ya know! I've been in worse fixes...!"

"Ugh!" the Archer sneered, leaping back from the blood before it could stain his shiny suit of armor. Again, he folded his arms, and a single, large vortex appeared over his head. "You have wasted more of my time than you deserved to. Let this be thy judgment! Depart my presence, foul one!"

And again, the weapons rained all over the area, piercing and shredding and splitting and chopping, covering every bit of flesh left in the ruined grass, mutilating and pulverizing relentlessly until all that remained of Assassin were a few droplets of blood seeping into the ground.

The battle was over. And the winner was clear now.

* * *

Nasu Kinoko and Type-Moon created and own _Fate/Stay Night_ , _Fate Prototype_ , _Fate Zero_ , _Fate EXTRA_ , _Fate Extella_ , _Fate Apocrypha_ , _Fate/Strange Fake_ , _Fate Kaleid Liner Prisma Illya_ , and _Fate Grand Order_.

All other characters and franchises are the intellectual properties of their respective copyright holders.

* * *

 **Fields of Fate.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Zero Sympathy.**

* * *

Matou Zouken rushed downstairs as fast as his short and feeble legs would allow him to. During his surveillance of the combat at Tohsaka's ancestral home, he'd felt a strong incoming presence, with the worms he kept in the basement sending him frantic messages to hurry over. After summoning Berserker, he'd put Sakura back into the worm pit, and she was the first thing he saw when he entered what he liked to call the training room.

The girl's eyes were still and wide open, them and her hair slowly turning purple already. Submerged to her bare shoulders into dark, squirming misshapen worms that crawled all over and around her, she didn't even seem to notice the heavy sounds of something pushing and hitting against the floor from below. Zouken's own eyes fell on the large cracks spreading near the worm pool, and moments later, the floor exploded upwards, at least that section of it, blown up in an explosion of ghostly green flames.

"Ow," Sakura quiet and vacantly said as a few pieces of broken floor fell on her head, Zouken shielding himself from more flying debris with his cane. From the new, large hole now rose a tall and black lean form cackling evilly, along a young man who caressed a huge knife tenderly, smiling to himself while climbing up from the old passages under the manor, ones Zouken himself had used to smuggle valuable items in through the Third Heaven's Feel.

The old magus snarled, readying himself for battle to the best of his capacities. The pale woman with horns whose spiritual presence felt like that of a Servant looked directly at him, smiling malevolently. A crow perched on her shoulder flapped its wings and screamed, and she spoke at Zouken, with an air of majesty and aplomb in her words. "Good evening, good Sir. Would you happen to be the master of this house?"

"Avon calling…" the young man chuckled, now eyeing the child barely breathing a few steps away from him, and faintly licking his lips over. "Well, well, what do we have here? Cool, now I see why'd you bring us here, Birdie! Good job…!"

"Don't you dare, ruffian," Zouken growled. He had not bothered to convince Tohsaka of delivering his child to him only to lose her now. Then he spoke to the Servant, with the cold blood of a Makiri rather than a Matou. "This is indeed my domain, woman. What is your business here? Speak quickly, intruder."

She cackled from the bottom of her throat, calmly gesturing at her accomplice, who was still advancing towards Sakura, bright eyed and oblivious to the patriarch's warning. "Not yet, Ryuunosuke. Be patient. Soon I will lead you to far more palatable horrors."

Elegantly, she slid, almost floating, over to Sakura's side, under Zouken's strict and watchful eyes. She leaned down to gently caress the girl's cheek, making her shiver slightly, but never to blink. "Poor sweet thing," the woman cooed in tender fashion. "Once, I was just this innocent and harmless. And just like her, I was wronged and abused, my life ruined forever, twisting me, turning me from the inside out. Oh yes, my dear, I have been there, too…"

Then she violently slapped her, full of seething rage and venom, and turned back around with a violent, fierce growl. "… and I fail to see why you shouldn't suffer like I suffered!"

Ryuunosuke whistled. "Someone needs some therapy, I guess…!"

"Hardly, my boy. I am perfectly healthy," Caster smiled amiably again, ignoring the single brief whimper of pain from the still mostly motionless Sakura. She bowed to Zouken, "My most sincere apologies for the intrusion, good sir. Diablo, my most reliable friend," she took a moment to pet the crow's head, "took notice of your abode while scouting this city for me, earlier today. A quite intriguing choice for a home, set upon a strong leyline, and now I see you practice quite a curious variety of magecraft as well…"

"I thought I had felt a different kind of familiar than the usual spies today," Matou hummed. "What are your intentions, then?" He smiled perfidiously. "Seizing my property? My absence will be noticed, and will make you a quick target for the Masters in this war. They don't like newcomers any more than I do. And if you are searching for a rival Master to destroy, you are wasting your time. My worthless nephew is our clan's representative for this War, and I'm afraid that ingrate wouldn't do anything for my sake if you threatened my life. After all I've done for him…!"

"Sir…!" Caster feigned dramatic dismay. "You wound me! To think of me, a dedicated Caster, as a vulgar thief who would simply waltz into a colleague's home and take it and his life by force…!" Her own evil smile returned, with a cutting glint in her eyes. "When in truth, I come bearing a most generous offer. One that will earn us that most sacred and profane of all treasures…"

* * *

 _Tohsaka Mansion:_

Tokiomi only could stare, aghast, at the smoking ruin that used to be his valuable gardens now. With both hands stuck to the glass of his window, his mouth hung open, his eyes open round. Behind him, Kirei stood feeling, for once, something remotely close to amusement, although not enough as to move him into a smile.

Gilgamesh appeared in the library room, smugly tossing his red cape around his shoulders. "A most pointless pantomime," he said on arrival, "but it has been a long time since I last performed in a play, so I shall overlook this slight. I was the first ever actor, I will let you know! My magnificence as a thespian lit the first stage in Uruk, showing the road for all generations to come! You mongrels have so much to thank to my talents."

 _Somewhere in the Throne of Heroes, Emperor Nero sneezed._

Kirei nodded his way. "A wonderful performance indeed, Your Majesty. My congratulations."

Tokiomi finally could pull away from the window, rubbing the wetness from his green eyes discreetly. _Eyes on the Grail, eyes on the Grail,_ he mentally admonished himself. _The Root will make it all worthwhile in the end._

"Yes, your contribution is much appreciated, O King of Heroes," he said, forcing a stoic tone. "This display will make any Masters think twice before attempting to disturb you, and afraid out of their feeble minds, they will be easy prey. Assassin's endurance made for a much more effective show than a Hassan perishing quickly, as well. The bigger the obstacle, the more notorious your greatness at overcoming it."

"The credit is all mine!" Archer sneered, incensed. "And I only went along with your foolish suggestion out of consideration for a child! She better watched me being awesome, Tokiomi. Hopefully, I will make your lineage's stupidity to stop with you!"

Tohsaka flinched inside, his considerable pride as an aristocrat hurt yet again by this demigod. "I… I thank you for your kindness to Rin, master of all you survey…"

Gilgamesh smiled haughtily. "A child is a fool who still has a chance to improve upon growth. The overwhelming majority of adults are fools already too old to change their ways. And speaking of fools…"

Several drops of thick dark blood were flowing in under the library's door, quickly coming together in a puddle, and then forming at first a madly bubbling blob. Then said blob grew several layers of coarse, dense white skin. The men saw the amorphous figure before them pull itself back into a humanoid shape while growing in size; bone and tissue and veins and arteries reconstructing themselves in moments. First the large bare feet were complete, and then the rest of the structure that would be supported by them, a brutish skeleton over which muscular flesh crawled quickly. Entrails were formed, skin and capillaries reaffirming themselves all around them, wrapping them in a robust, strong frame, taller than any of those present. And soon, before them stood a newly revived, fully naked, just as hairy and surly as ever Assassin.

"I'm hungry!" he growled.

Gilgamesh laughed. "You are hilarious, Assassin! Abusing you is so much better than quickly dispatching a Hassan peasant! Truly, massacring you does wonder to vent the royal stress out!"

"Yeah, yeah, yer lucky a good merc thinks of no job as under 'em!" Lobo grumbled. "Not the first time I've taken a scripted fall, but if we ever get to blows fer real…"

"… I will just make what transpired here tonight look gentle," the King boasted. "But perhaps I will keep you around after this charade of a quest is over. Beating you up is so much fun!"

"I hate this guy, I really do," Assassin shook his head. Then he slammed his hands together, roaring at Kotomine. "Yo, Padre! Ya deaf or sumthin'?! I said I wuz hungry! Just lost all stomach contents back there fer yer sake, ya know! Ya disciples of dat hippie are all about feedin' the needy, aren'tcha?!"

Kirei nodded quickly. "My apologies, Assassin. I will go after something to placate your belly," he said before moving out of the private library speedily.

"And don't forget tossin' some brew in too!" Lobo puffed through his nose after the priest left. "I never can tell if he's snarkin' when he says those things. What's up wit' that guy anyway?"

"Could you please just put on some pants already, Assassin?" Tokiomi wearily asked.

"What's th' hurry, Pops? Ya gotta bad case of wang envy? Get used ta it! I won't touch yer wife 'cuz dat's unprofessional, but 'member, in ten years, an' assumin' yer kid doesn't turn ugly…!"

Gilgamesh smiled at the thoroughly disgusted Tokiomi. "Were I unfortunate enough as to be you, mongrel, I'd start overfeeding your daughter and looking for a plastic surgeon with no scruples…"

* * *

 _Matou Manor:_

"What sort of partnership are you proposing?" Zouken asked, thoughtfully massaging his small, bulbous chin.

"Ryuunosuke here summoned me to this world," Caster said, casually gesturing towards her Master, "but sadly he is not very knowledgeable about the nature of the Holy Grail War. He doesn't understand the value of the prize meant for us. You, on the other hand, look and sound just like the kind of sage gentleman who would be well versed in such matters."

"Do you mean this grandpa is gonna be my teacher at this whole 'Master' thing?" Uryuu asked. He could see the logic in that; he didn't really understand what the old guy had done to that kid, but it sure looked keen and gnarly. Odds were he was preparing her for some sort of super awesome ritual killing later on.

"I see. That is a flattering offer," Zouken said, "but sadly the Matou family already has a representative in this Heaven's Feel. I know all too well he is incompetent and ungrateful, but I'm hardly the magus I once was. I would like nothing better than to put my own hands on the holy cup, but after my last attempt at it…"

"Oh, come on, now," Caster purred. "What kind of defeatist mentality is that, for an arcane master of the darkest arts? What will you do, should some of the other Masters happened to seize the Grail? Or even that ingrate relative of yours? You obviously have invested so much on the task…"

"I have," Matou frowned. "But I'm confident no upstart will be able to claim the cup for themselves this time either. They aren't half the men and women who fought for it and failed in the past. And I… I need more time to plan, to prepare, for the next War. It won't do, rushing into this one without the necessary measures…"

Ryuunosuke laughed. "Dude, when is that next War? Next week? Because I'll be shocked if you even make it to Christmas, looking that way!"

As Zouken bristled, Caster sighed. "Do you see now? This is what I have to work with, and this is your share," she pointed at Sakura, "a child submerged into worms and a relative who will not respect your authority. Were we to join forces, however…"

"I saw you in a movie once…" Sakura blandly said.

Zouken pondered the issue for several moments, lowering his face and tightly gripping his walking stick. Finally, the malicious smile returned to his dry lips. "What the hell, as they say today. There's still life in me to teach this generation a few lessons!"

"That is the spirit!" Caster cackled thriumphally, and she spun around in grandiose fashion, swinging her staff and producing a burst of green flame that swiftly cut the right hand clean off Uryuu's wrist.

"Aaahhhh!" he screamed in pain and surprise, clutching his bleeding stump while Caster easily caught the severed hand in mid-air. "What, what the fuck, lady?! I thought we were partners in crime!-!"

Without bothering to look at him, she pushed him back, and he stumbled and fell into the worm pit, Zouken laughing icily as Caster tossed him the hand and he intercepted it just as easily. Sakura's eyes barely moved, gazing at this stranger as the hungry worms turned on him, covering him and pulling him down with all their combined might. "O-Oh! Oh, I get it!" he choked and laughed, truly excited even as he was being quickly devoured, tiny vermin drilling through his flesh everywhere. "W-Way cool, dudes! My fault, right?! Shoulda expected it from demons, right?! Ha hah! A-Awesome! It tickles, it hurts like hell, it's so fantastic!"

"Do we have a contract?" Caster pleasantly smiled at Zouken.

"We do," the old magus confirmed, the Command Seals flowing from the chopped hand and into his own while his worms ate Ryuunousuke from the outside and inside, Kariya's months-long torment visited upon him all at once in a matter of minutes, with everything that implied. "Who would've thought it? I've still got game!"

"Y-You are a radical grandpa!" Ryuunosuke shouted through his agonic tremors. "Wish mine would've b-been like you, dude! It's, it's been a honor… what a rush… what a cool…" he then gurgled into a mouthful of worms as his decaying remains were pulled down one last time, never to resurface.

And that was the end of Uryuu Ryuunousuke, the Killer Leopard of Fuyuki, even if the press never got to call him that.

There was a long, satisfied silence in the wet basement after that, finally broken by Sakura of all people.

"Will you be bringing more of those?" she absently asked. "I liked that, it calmed the buggies down…"

* * *

Emiya Kiritsugu took his flight to Japan several hours before his wife took hers, and under a false name. This was a logical measure to hide his involvement with Irisviel's participation, and obviously nobody was in the airport to greet him upon arrival. From there, it was a simple train trip to the Mion River district, alone and uneventful, contemplating how much the landscape had changed over the last few years.

A stranger in a strange land for so long, only making sporadic comebacks to his birth country for the sake of his project, Kiritsugu felt like he hadn't missed a beat of the local environment while walking along streets that hadn't even been there last time he visited the islands. On his way over, he bought a pack of cigarettes from a vending machine, and as he took his first puff since becoming a father, he realized he hadn't missed a single day there, either.

The world changed constantly, and yet it also remained the same where it actually mattered. These crowds of well dressed people Kiritsugu marched through, inconspicuous in his plain black coat and pants, were just as oblivious and stuck in their own matters and ways as the more cosmopolitan masses of Europe or the poverty stricken, despairing multitudes of the Third World. While people would despise and fear those who lived elsewhere and looked different, they all went through the same basic motions. It even applied to magi. It was Emiya's purpose to make them all realize it.

The site of the rendezvous was the new Konoe Towers, a fairly new luxury complex including a small hotel mostly intended for traveling executives and other fleeting travelers, and where his faithful subordinate had been holed up over a couple days now, in Room 73. According to the plan, he didn't ring, but knocked on the door following a quiet rhythmic pattern that quickly earned him access. He slipped inside without wasting any time in formal or friendly greetings, a single word aimed at the fair skinned young woman with short black hair waiting inside. "Report."

She nodded while locking the door behind him. A natural, athletic beauty, functional and simple in her lack of makeup and her zipped up jacket and jeans, she was a far cry from Irisviel's aristocratic beauty, but no less attractive in her own way. "There was activity in Tohsaka Manor last night. Two Servants. It would seem one of them has been removed already."

"Footage, Maiya," he dryly requested, pulling on a chair and rolling his sleeves up.

Maiya Hisau nodded, turning the television on and starting the recording taken by Animusphere's familiars. While a skilled enough magus can create familiars to see through instead of relying on a delivered message, the micro cameras provided an advantage even Zouken's insects had no access to. The resulting film could be reviewed more than once in full detail, including close-ups and multiple angles, allowing Emiya better intelligence than less technologically savvy adversaries.

He smoked quietly while watching the fight with dead droning eyes, absently offering Maiya a cigarette. She rejected it with a single polite gesture, and he shrugged. When it was over, she asked, "What do you think?"

"One of them is Archer," Kiritsugu observed, "but whether it's the one throwing and swinging swords or the one with the bulky ride and the modern weaponry remains to be seen. Neither fits a perfect obvious archetype, that much's for sure. The one infiltrating the manor evidently doesn't come from the past… Maiya, scout the local importation shops. Manga stores that deliver American material. The entertainment district should have a few."

She nodded again. There were three schools of thought among Magi concerning the viability of summoning fictional creations as Servants. One of them claimed that is a plain impossibility, and that summonable figures of myth like Heracles or Medea actually existed at some point of the distant past, even if their exploits have been magnified by oral tradition and details might have been altered. Another stated that all Servants were, in fact, fictional existences born from the convoker's connection to a plane of existence that draws from humanity's pool of collective thought; even manifestations of well documented 'real people' would be just images based on humanity's perception of them, not the actual spirits of the dead.

A third theory, based on the studies of Lord Zelretch, said Servants are most often pulled from alternate planes of reality, and that these alternate dimensions often manifest themselves into our world through mankind's imagination, giving origin to many a myth, work of immortal literature, or piece of disposable pop culture entertainment. For most magi, who will never meet a Heroic Spirit in their lives, this discussion is irrelevant; even for those dabbling into Heaven's Feel, it doesn't matter from where a Heroic Spirit came as long as they hit hard and obey orders. But Kiritsugu dealt in intelligence, and this was an important subject for him.

"Should we worry about him, however?" she asked. "You suspect he hasn't been neutralized, don't you?"

"There wasn't the dissipation into primal spiritual essence Acht said was common to all vanquished Servants," he told his field assistant. "And this has all the basic trappings of a setup. The intruder even mentioned Tohsaka's leaning towards wine, which would point to a degree of familiarity with him. But the Servants are too different to be part of the same legend, so Tohsaka is in complicity with another Master." He paused. "I take it that no one has asked for refuge in the church?"

"Nobody but the Kotomines has been there over the last couple of days, habitual churchgoers aside," she said. "Are you sure that Servant is Western in nature? Just because he's loud and uncouth?"

"A strong hunch," he admitted. "Back in my childhood, I used to read American superheroes… a bad habit that helped me into a wrong path, you might argue. I don't recognize this one, but he still looks vaguely familiar. Like one of those that came after the genre went down the crapper, all Image over substance." He stood up. "Enough of that for now. Keep a watch on the church just in case, the usual distance. Only the familiars, I want you doing the Servant's research instead. Now show me my equipment."

"Yes," she said, moving over to pull a large crate out from under a couch. She unlocked it, threw its cover open, and Kiritsugu half smiled.

A Walther WA200 semi-automatic rifle.

Hand grenades, including the smoke, flash, and stun varieties.

C2 plastic explosive.

A Steyr AUG assault gun.

A Calico M950 submachine gun.

And more. Much more.

"It's time to start our own War," Kiritsugu stoically said, putting his cigarette out.

* * *

Shielder sighed as she followed her King and Madam von Einzbern down the airport halls, hefting the luggage for all three women, with in truth amounted only for Irisviel's luggage. It was not proper for a King or a lady to perform such tasks, after all, so it fell on the knight to carry it all, an easy job for a Heroic Spirit even if the appalled passerbys who looked curiously at the trio could be excused for only seeing a young rich couple walk carelessly arm on arm while some poor, downtrodden female secretary or random employee worked as their exploited beast of burden.

She and Saber had been quite reluctant on these travel arrangements at first. It couldn't be helped in the case of the King, who could not assume a spiritual form no matter what for some reason even an intrigued Professor Animusphere could not even guess at, but Shielder did have access to an astral form, and it looked like a waste of prana to follow them around in a physical body. Irisviel had argued not only she had prana supplies to spare, but to better keep the illusion she had summoned two Servants at once somehow, spies shouldn't notice there was a difference in their qualities. But now, Galahad was just half-convinced the Lady just wanted someone to carry the luggage around, since they couldn't bring any domestic homunculi with them.

Shielder wore the thick glasses, modest jacket and knee-length attire, and shiny, ugly black shoes of a stereotypical company intern, since there was no way to pass her as male with her bustline. However, her King was impeccably suited in black, designer shoes and deluxe tie included, her blond hair groomed back into a ponytail, looking exactly like a very young handsome gentleman of vaguely androgynous appeal. Judging by how many heads turned on their wake to look at her and her smiling, dazzling silver haired companion, the King had not lost her attractiveness at all since the days of Camelot.

"I had no idea it was so big…!" Irisviel excitedly said, in Japanese she had spent years perfecting with Kiritsugu's help. "So wide…! Japan is wonderful, I want to see more…!"

"It doesn't really look all that different from the other airport in Germany," Galahad said to herself. Was this what happened when someone was raised a recluse in a mountain fortress facility surrounded by nothing but snow and ice their whole life? At least now she could understand Perceval's circumstances a bit better…

"I'm glad you like it," Saber smiled at her replacement Master of sorts. "I had feared you would have more of a difficult time adapting to the outside world."

Irisviel pouted. "Mou, Saber… That's my line! I really thought the two of you would have more problems coping, well, with how this world is now."

"… somewhat," Saber admitted, taking a moment to look at a Hare Krishna asking passerbys for money, "but the world remains basically the same where it matters, no matter the trappings. Flight was a surprisingly sedate experience, as a matter of fact. It was even quieter than being carried in a chariot."

Shielder nodded. "Coming through sea would have delayed us greatly, as well. But, what now, Ma'am? Will we be heading directly to your hotel, or perform a preliminary patrol first?"

"I want to see everything!" Irisviel decided cheerfully. "I'll send photos to Illya with Kiritsugu! And of course, it'll be a big chance for you as well!"

"I… I won't attract public attention walking around this city like this, will I?" Saber doubted.

Irisviel giggled. "So what if you do? It's the good kind of attention! You're so handsome, if I didn't have a husband already…!" she playfully teased.

Saber blushed and pulled back with obvious embarrassment. "M-My Lady, please…! That's hardly professional!"

Shielder smiled. "You still have that touch with the ladies, Sir!"

"Not you too, _Mash!_ " Saber protested, making use of the false name in Shielder's forged credentials. Galahad thought it was a bit of a silly name, herself, but then, it had been picked by Professor Animusphere himself, and apparently mages of this era had quite strange preferences when it came to names. What had happened to good and simple names for enchanters, like Merlin Wyllt, Morgause Le Fay, Mad Madam Mim, or Ganicenda?

In any case, the Servants were all too aware of the fate that Irisviel faced. If she wanted to enjoy herself before that, they hardly could fault or impede her. And so they quickly went over to call for a taxi, and their day in the big city began…

* * *

That afternoon, Waver Velvet couldn't stop blushing as he walked along his Servant across the crowded streets of Fuyuki's shiny commercial district. He'd never been much interested on girls; his obsession with his studies had left him with little time for that. He supposed he'd marry before too long, after finding someone fitting and agreeable, but it'd never seemed an urgent matter to consider.

Now, however, he was strolling along an exotic place with this admittedly gorgeous older woman who was fascinated by all the sights everywhere they went, and more or less pulled him along, and he had to admit to himself it made him uncomfortable. He had to keep telling himself Rider was actually a horse, and part of him had actually stopped fearing the incoming battles and started wishing they would find an enemy Servant already to stop this scout part before it turned into anything resembling any sort of date…

"Tell me, Master," she surprised him by talking in a lower and more private tone while walking through a park, "what will you wish for after we win this 'Holy Grail'?"

He looked around to verify there was no one close indeed, and then sighed. "You will think I'm an idiot."

"No!" she said. "Why would I think that? To have a wish strong it would drive you to risk everything, you couldn't be an idiot. Reckless, perhaps, but you're still young, and that's understandable. You're brimming with the hopes and ambitions of youth, you only need to learn how to rein them in. So, what will you wish for?"

"See, that's the thing," the boy sadly said. "The Grail itself isn't my goal. It's the accomplishment of obtaining it, that's what brought me all the way here." He stopped by a bench and dropped down on it, putting his head in his hands. "I've always been a nobody from a lowly family. I've always been told I wouldn't amount to anything important. I suppose I could wish to be super rich and popular, but… at that point, would I need it anymore? Just winning the War, on itself, would earn me the respect I've never had. After that, the wish itself seems irrelevant. I'd already have what I wanted. You'd better use it for yourself, Rider. I'm sure you can think of much better things to ask for than me…"

"I see…" she said, quietly sitting by his side. "Then this is about recognition, about your pride."

"I told you it was a stupid thing to share, sorry…" he tightened his fists on his lap.

She patted his head. "Now, now. I didn't say it was stupid, did I? I can see why others would think so, but I don't. It's much better than wishing for wealth and privilege. You want to prove you are worthy through your effort, rather than having fame and respect magically granted upon you."

"It's still about my pride, as you just said," he mumbled bitterly. "In the end, I'm not better than those prideful bigots in the Clock Tower… No, of course I'm way better!" he suddenly exploded with shaky resolve. "At least I want to bring change for others, too! That's why I'm doing this! They think they can walk all over those from minor families and do whatever they want, and that it has to be that way forever! It's my moral duty, showing them they can't!"

Rider considered that. "You know, I used to know three fillies who didn't have Cutie Marks. Cutie Marks are signs that define what we are, among our people. You have seen mine, in the shape of the sun. These fillies didn't have theirs for a longer than usual time, and they had to endure quite a lot of pressure and mockery from their peers because of that."

Waver frowned. "And in the end, they earned their Marks and everypony was happy, right? Well, Rider, it doesn't work that way with magi. If we don't work hard, happy endings will never come our way."

"But they _did_ work hard," she said. "It's just that, just because you work hard at something, it doesn't necessarily mean you'll succeed either, as long as it's not the proper purpose to devote your efforts into. Your hard work can't blind you to where you are applying them, Waver. As long as the Cutie Mark Crusaders kept on focusing on things not related to their true capacities, they wouldn't find the true calling of their selves. It's the same thing with all of us."

Waver blinked. "You mean… showing off my best capacities? But, but I've tried that too, and it didn't work! If it had worked, I wouldn't be here now! They just ignored me and laughed, that's why I had to do this, is the only way they'd ever understand-!"

She gestured at him to stop with a hand. "Waver, please."

"No, you'll listen to me now! This isn't your fairytale land, the world of magi is too merciless and treacherous for—"

"Waver," she grew stern, and so did her gaze. "We'll continue this discussion later, but for now, there's another Servant nearby."

It was an unavoidable event and rationally speaking, Waver had been well aware of that. But even so, hearing of it while his mind was busy with other subjects greatly rattled the young magus. The old anxiety and dread returned threefold, and he went very pale very fast.

"W-Where…?" he managed to say.

Rider pointed towards the coastline, the port. "Over there," she said. "By the sea."

He hadn't even noticed it until then, but the sun was setting down already.

* * *

Across town, in a far seedier part of it, Kariya staggered into the room where Berserker had been sitting watching television. "We have a target now," the Master rasped out. "Some of my familiars just caught sight of a Servant making rounds around the waterfront."

Berserker frowned, and finally got up with a hoarse sigh. "What kind of Servant it is?"

"Insects aren't very smart and can't give detailed reports," Kariya mumbled. "Female, wielding some sort of polearm, it's got to be Lancer. Obviously not Tohsaka's, but he's got to be there as well, we can get him if we move fast…"

"Okay," Berserker said with an air of grim resignation. "Let's hit the rooftop, then. I can't transform here."

His Master nodded and followed him up the motel's stairs, trembling violently as they went up. His teeth chattered as he kept on speaking with feverish zeal. "No way Tohsaka himself will be there, he values his life too much, so you can crush everything around with no concerns. Any other Masters get in your way, smash them flat. We all knew the risks when we signed in for this."

"That doesn't make it any easier," Berserker stoically said as they reached the rooftop, and he looked towards the quiet sea. "Yes. I can feel it now. It's very faint, because it's too far away, and yet, to be felt all the way here… it's got to be a powerful one. I can't really escape this, can I? Okay. I don't know which one of him will come out, so be prepared. If one of the uncontrollable versions comes out, use a Command Seal as soon as he even looks your way. You'll know it because of his stare. And then pray it works."

Kariya nodded jerkily, as if the head was going to drop off his neck with the motion. "Do it. Just do it already, damn it!"

Berserker snorted. "This obsession of yours is starting to make me mad. Good."

Then he closed his eyes, concentrated, and remained still for half a minute or so. Just when the eager Kariya was starting to think nothing would happen and protest accordingly, Berserker took his head back abruptly, snarled like a mad beast, and opened now bloodshot eyes, full of insanity and fury. Kariya felt the painful tug of a massive prana burst from his chest, the worms inside twitching and drilling frantically, and briefly thought he was going to suffer a fatal stroke.

 _"Rrraaaaa…"_ Berserker growled slowly, his body shaking in all directions, desperately tossing the shirt off himself. The veins all over his torso and neck began bulging in a grotesque way, gaining a sickly shade of greenish gray. _**"Rrrrrrhhhhaaaaa!"**_

Kariya's heart beat fast, burning in his chest like a hyperactive furnace. His knees wobbled, and his whole body felt so cold. Berserker seemed to be undergoing an agonizing change of his own, as he fell to his hands and knees, panting and coughing and making sounds more fitting a large animal than a human being. His build expanded suddenly, twice, then three times his previous size, muscles erupting everywhere, almost like popping tumors. His skin crawled up, growing thick as a crocodile's hide, then even more so. And furthermore, it became… a solid dark grey.

 ** _"RRRRRRRAAAAAHHHHH!"_**

Massive, blocky fists mashed on the rooftop a few times, opening wide cracks all over it. Finally, Berserker stopped shaking and drooling, and Kariya felt his own pain subsiding a bit. His Servant rose back, in a chillingly silent way. Kariya got a glimpse of his eyes, which now were deeper and darker, filled with resentment and frustration. Even so, they still lacked the primal insanity of uncontrolled anger. It was more like a constant, but marginally more restrained rancor and ill will. Then those nonetheless terrifying eyes fully turned on him, and the gray giant growled a single hostile word as he offered his broad, almost rocky back for the livid Master who had invoked him.

"Climb."

* * *

Peace, as Shielder reflected while the three women approached the piers, was a rare and fleeting commodity during times in which raging desires moved men and women against their brothers and sisters. Such is the basic nature of any war.

Less than half a hour ago, they had been enjoying themselves in this placed called the Yukihiro EXTRA Mall, and for a short while, Shielder had pushed the thoughts of battle behind, enjoying Lady Irisviel's contagious enthusiasm and joy of living as she tried on hats, tasted her first hamburger, and above all, took picture after picture for her daughter. Then, while casually strolling closer to the coast, they had felt the alarming presence of a rival.

They had first seen her as soon as they hit the otherwise solitary seaside boulevard. She moved from one extreme of it to the other, with the large full moon as her spotlight. Nearly ethereal in appearance in seemingly weightless like a fairy, a pale presence whose tall boots softly tapped against the pavement in a patrol that was almost a dance. Irisviel took a hand to her mouth, amazed. "She's even younger than you, Saber…" she whispered.

"Be careful, Ma'am. That might be nothing but a glamour," Shielder warned, already attired for battle like her lord, and stepping protectively before the Einzbern. Saber's green eyes grew narrow, fixed on the long polearm the slender Servant held effortlessly.

"Lancer," the King said, and the girl stopped her rounds, training large, soulful eyes on the newly arrived. Eyes that reminded Galahad of Queen Guinevere's, not in colour or shape but in how much melancholy they held. And then Lancer spoke, and her voice was accordingly silky and quiet, as if coming from another world, so close and yet so distant.

"Welcome," was all she said at first. Slowly, she looked back and forth between Saber and Shielder, as if to make sure they were both indeed Servants despite not being attacking each other. Then she looked at Irisviel, as if trying to make sure there was nobody else like her around. Very slightly, she frowned. "So," she added at last, "will you be coming at me both at once, or one by one?"

"The Code of the Knight calls for a fair trial by combat, one on one," Saber stepped ahead, making a gesture of drawing out an invisible sword. "Is that fine with the customs of your place of origin, Lancer?"

"I'm fine with anything you decide," Lancer monotoned, readying her weapon and assuming an elegant ready stance. "But if you indeed have honor, I am glad for your soul's sake. It will go to a better place after this."

"I am not ready to ascend from the Throne to Paradise just yet," Saber warned, leveling her hands in a strike position, still as if holding thin air. "My redemption must be earned through victory first."

"The prize waiting at the end of this journey might not be redemption," Lancer warned in turn, and then, like a flash, shoved herself forward, cleaving ahead with her sharp end of her staff.

Saber smiled. _"Dance, O Wind,"_ she commanded, before bursting into a long leap to meet Lancer's charge, pushed up by an initial boost of prana. Compressed air exploding around her roared in all directions, and the Servants' weapons came together with a thundering sound that forced Irisviel o cover her ears, Shielder squinting to see through the huge flash of light resulting from the collision.

A second later, Saber and Lancer sprang back from each other, neither wounded, both thoughtfully staring at the other, calibrating in their minds what they had just learned from this first contact. Saber made the first next move, trying again with another forward dash, this time twisting slightly aside and then correcting her course back to her original trajectory. Lancer barely moved out of her way in time, something that satisfied the swordswoman. Now she felt fairly confident she had and edge in skill and technique, at the very least. Of course, that was still less than half the battle. Too many other factors were still left to determine…

Irisviel watched on with very round and bright eyes. It was her first time actually witnessing violence by herself, without relying on the narrations in books and the occasional reluctant memory pried away from Kiritsugu. And actually looking at it was completely different to all of those second hand accounts.

* * *

Emiya Kiritsugu plopped down at the observation point he'd just picked, one close enough to the battle yet also distant enough for him to, hopefully, remain unnoticed. Wrapped in a long black coat and hood that served as camouflage in the darkness, he crouched on the roof of the Naba Heavy Industries warehouse and set his sniper rifle. Irisviel's call on her way there had summoned him, but he couldn't set out to protect her directly unless absolutely necessary; that was what Shielder, a master of absolute defense, was there for.

Instead, he was there to find any other nearby Masters and take them out. Only if a second enemy appeared requiring Shielder to fight, he was to help his Iri back away. In the meanwhile, he had to trust Saber to hold her own against this Lancer and concentrate on finding the enemy Master. As he carefully combed the area with his binoculars, Maiya, called by him in turn, appeared on the roof, shortly behind him. "I got the information you wanted," she said.

"Oh?" Kiritsugu replied, still focused on his task. Maiya took only a second to stare down at the woman standing by the warrior with the titanic shield, and then spoke her answer.

"First of all," she told him, holding a pack of brightly colored magazines close to her chest, "these things are the worst junk I've ever read. Second, you were right. That Servant isn't dead. He literally can't die."

"He wouldn't be a Servant if he couldn't," Emiya whispered back, starting to wonder if Lancer hadn't just been left to her own devices. No Master anywhere in sight yet.

"If there's a way, it sure isn't in any of the stories I read," Maiya informed, the other woman's fascinating beauty still lingering in her heart despite herself. This had been the first time she'd ever seen her personally, and photographies, she knew now, just couldn't compare. "He's basically invulnerable. He can heal back from anything, even from being completely destroyed. He can fight evenly with Superman…"

"Even Superman has his Kryptonite. Just tell me his weak points already," Kiritsugu instructed.

"You _might_ be able to knock him out with gas. _A lot_ of gas," Maiya said, choosing to look at the battle now. This was another first for her; last night's fight, she only could witness through the footage from familiars, but this was much different. It was real, despite, or precisely because of, how surreal it felt at the same time. In a way, it was pretty much like the first time, so long ago, she had seen other being killed before her, back when such things had also seemed distant impossibilities.

Maiya had studied about Heroic Spirits while preparing to help Kiritsugu in this War. She knew King Arthur's legend was one of the richest, best known and most prestigious in the world, lending an impressive power to its leading figure. And said power was obvious from the graceful, yet devastating way the Saber moved and swung. There was no way of denying Kiritsugu had summoned one of the best Heroic Spirits.

And even so, Lancer, despite belonging to a Class traditionally weak to Sabers, seemed to be holding her own. At her cry of "Silence Wall!" a massive force had just pushed Saber back and away from her, despite her Class' Magic Resistance Skill. That meant that weapon's magic had to be very ancient in nature, possessing a strong element of Mystery spawning from the furthest depths of human history.

That made sense. Except because Maiya recognized Lancer's face and attire. She couldn't give a name, but she'd seen her picture, usually posing with others like her, on the covers of many manga volumes in the stores she'd been scouting for Kiritsugu earlier that day. Frivolous material for little girls she'd just passed by, and she only remembered it because Emiya had trained her memory to be photographic and never miss any detail. Remembering those glossy  
covers of shiny colors, it was difficult to believe that very same girl was crossing weapons with King Arthur himself, the invisible sword clashing in almost equal terms with the sharp-ended staff. Even if Excalibur's true power was far from being released yet, surely that had to be…

"Impossible," she heard Kiritsugu say in a dry, subdued tone.

Maiya followed his gaze, now he had taken it aside for some reason. And she saw it too. Binoculars were not needed anymore.

THOOM.

It thundered with each bounce, from one rooftop to the next, each time louder as it came closer.

 **THOOM.**

"Wasn't he supposed to be green?" Maiya asked, gulping for once. Almost everyone in the world, haad they ever held a comic book in their hands or not, had they grown up in the most metropolitan of cities or the seediest tropical village, knew of this figure who was leaping towards them.

 **THOOM!**

"Sometimes he was gray," Kiritsugu said, coldly controlling his own awe and dread.

 **THOOM!**

The colossus jumped cleanly over the duo, without even noticing them, as if they were less than ants to him. During this latest bounce towards the boulevard, Saber and Lancer stopped their duel and looked up as one. So did the amazed Shielder and Iri. And then he had landed before them, the ground shaking violently, so much Irisviel had to grab Shielder's arm for support lest she would trip over and plummet. He stood impossibly tall, bigger than life itself. A mountain of muscle with the eyes of a heartless brute. His shadow loomed huge over them all.

But the Saber did not flinch. "Who are you?" she icily asked.

His tone was guttural and inhuman, as much as his words themselves.

"The strongest one there is."

* * *

Several blocks away, from the spot where Berserker had left him before leaping away to join the fight, Matou Kariya managed to control his ruined facial nerves enough as to make a twisted smile.

* * *

 **To be Continued.**

* * *

 **Statistics:**

 **Class** : Rider.

 **True Name** : Princess Celestia of Equestria.

 **Alternate Names** : Headmaster Celestia of Canterlot High, Princess Corona, Trollestia.

 **Alignment** : Lawful Good.

 **Gender** : Female.

 **Source** : _My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic_.

Strength: B.

Endurance: C.

Agility: C (on ground), A (in flight).

Magic: A++.

Luck: C.

Noble Phantasm: EX.

 **Class Skills:**

 **Riding** : C.

While summoned to this Class because of her connection to other Legendary Beasts, Rider's legend is not linked to feats of riding, driving or piloting of any sorts. However, her strong connection to all horses means she easily can get them to trust her, and ride any of them in her human form. Four wheeled land vehicles like automobiles are also manageable by her in this appearance.

 **Divinity** : A.

An immortal (although still killable through violence) sovereign of a whole gigantic country of Legendary Beasts known as 'ponies', Rider was a godlike figure whose reign spanned many generations. Her word was seen as absolute law, and while she was no real goddess, her power and stature equaled and even surpassed that of many minor deities.

 **Personal Skills:**

 **Animal Language** : A.

Rider could speak to all manners of animals and exert authority over several of them, from sea serpents to gigantic bears and even butterflies. Her dominion was the most evident over other equines, while some species like griffins, yaks and dragons were hostile, indifferent or outright defiant to her rule.

 **Charisma** : A.

Smooth-tongued and eloquent, Rider was beloved by her subjects and made for a convincing speaker and leader of masses. All stallions wanted her, and all mares wanted to be her. Even her adversaries usually respected her, although this skill will drop two ranks against all Chaotic Evil Servants.

 **Power of the Princess: The Greatest Alicorn Of All** : A.

Born an alicorn, Rider was one of five known princesses possessing the skills of pegasi, unicorns and earth ponies alike. Through her horn, she can harness and manifest a wide variety of overwhelming magical effects, ranking from telekinesis to release of devastating energy blasts, and including the generation of defensive force fields and long distance teleporting. However, this Skill only can be used by Rider in her alicorn form.

 **Teacher for the Future: Miracle Worker** : A.

Not only was Rider a ruler, but also a devoted teacher for gifted students on magic, constantly stressing the values of friendship, loyalty, honesty, generosity and kindness. When fighting to defend someone she considers a disciple at heart, all her stats will be boosted by one rank.

 **Noble Phantasms:**

 _The Crystal Mirror: Passage to Another World_ : D.

Originally, this Noble Phantasm was a portal between dimensions, but the limitations of the Grail system have downgraded it to a tool through which Rider can alter her appearance to one of an alternate human version of her legend. This is done to better blend in with the human society, but otherwise renders her useless in combat until the Mirror is used again to change her back.

 _Equestria: Magical Land of Harmony_ : EX.

Being semidivine, Rider can summon this Reality Marble that reshapes the world around her into a copy of her longtime Equestrian domains. Rider gains the helping charge of her pony subjects, several of them Heroic Spirits themselves, including the six Elements of Harmony bearers and fellow princesses Luna and Cadence. An annihilating pastel colored Anti-Army attack able to overcome all but the strongest Servants.

 **Summoning:** "Greetings, Master. I am Servant Rider, at your service. I hope our friendship turns out to be as long as fruitful."

 **Likes** : "I like all my students, naturally! I love receiving their letters, telling me of their progress. I also like seeing my people celebrate, eh he he, and taking long bubble baths as well…"

 **Dislikes:** "I am against those who would enforce themselves upon others against their will. Freedom is necessary for harmony and prosperity!"

 **Birthday:** "Happy birthday, Master! Oh dear, I wish Pinkie Pie were here… I'm afraid these parties aren't my specialty, even though I've had many. How many? Sorry, that's a lady's secret to keep…"

 **Event:** "Oh dear, what is that? A festival? A carnival? A ball, mayhaps? Let us see, Master! I'm sure it will be fun!"

 **Holy Grail:** "If I had to wish for something… it would be for 'that event' between my sister and I to never come to pass. It left us both with so much regret over so long…"

 **Extra Dialogue:**

"Oh my, what a happy coincidence! The King of Britain is here, too! Huh? Yes, I do know her. She has always loved horses, you know…" (When you have Saber Artoria).

"… I see. I realize we are supposed to fight together, but we remain polar opposites in a story like this…" (When you have Caster Maleficent).

* * *

 **This Man, This Worm!**

"Hey, Taro," said one of the worms in the pit, pausing in its vile labor.

"Now what, Pinsuke?" said the worm next to it.

"Haven't you ever wondered if we should be doing something with our lives, other than hideously abusing this girl here and eating people so the Master can prolong his existence?"

The other worm sighed. "You're one of those, aren't you, Pinsuke? I thought you guys were a myth…"

"One of what?"

"You know, one of those who hold the Master's conscience. Look, Pinsuke, we're penisworms. We rape and devour and cause decay, we aren't good for anything else. The Master better not hear you or he'll dispose of you. Just drop those crazy ideas already and do your job, man."

"Penisworms? I thought we were Happiness Worms!"

"We are, but the only one we make happy is Master. Oh look, now you distracted me and Makoto ate that piece! I wanted that piece! It smelt so juicy!"

"Sorry, Hideo," Makoto said. "I had no idea!"

"I'm Taro."

"But… is this really all life holds for us?" Pinsuke complained. "There's a whole world outside, full of sunlight and smiles and candy and gacha games and all those other things this girl used to like! I want to experience those things too!" It began crawling out of the pit. "I've decided it! My trip will no doubt be dangerous and exhausting, and often I will face doubts and disappointment, but I won't come back! I'll persevere! I need to see all those wonderful things myself!"

"No! Come back, Frank! You don't even have eyes!" another worm cried.

"He's not Frank! He's Pinsuke! … I think."

"You're right, he's Pinsuke. I'm Frank."

"I thought you were Ronald!"

It took Pinsuke a ton of blood, sweat, tears, other disgusting wormly secretions, effort and suffering, but it struggled hard and made a name for itself, first in the Japanese porn industry and then as a respected academic at the Clock Tower, bringing with itself a radical new spin on the theories of the Matous.

The students would go on to vote it consistently the second most sexually desired for years, only surpassed by Lord El Melloi II.


	4. Countdown to Zero

"I'll see you tomorrow, Fujimaru-kun," Sajyou Ayaka waved good night to Shirou before crossing the street and entering her family's residence. The crows nestling all around the old house had been restless of late, as if afraid, and tonight was no exception; the little girl could hear them rustling together uneasily in the trees of their wide garden surrounded by tall walls. She tried to ignore the strange sensation of subtle dread while pushing the front door open. "Dad, Oneechan, I'm home…"

"Oh, good evening, Ayaka-chan. Father is in his study and doesn't wish to be disturbed," her dear big sister musically said while arranging the table for both of them, lovingly setting a delicious dinner. "I'm afraid it'll be just the two of us again."

"I see…" Ayaka said in her little docile voice, nodding as her blonde, beautiful sister, nearly ethereal and pale like a fairy of radiant light, took her own seat across the table, always smiling angelically at her. "Thank you, Manaka-Oneechan."

"Now, before we bless this meal," Sajyou Manaka said, clear blue eyes sparkling in happiness, "I want you to understand, Father is not upset at us, Ayaka-chan dearest."

"I know that, Oneechan."

"But you don't know at what he _is_ upset, do you?" Manaka gently asked, and Ayaka had to shake her head silently. Manaka reached over, lovingly caressed her cheek and whispered oh so sweetly, "Father is just disappointed our family missed a chance he had been waiting for his whole life. He worked very hard to achieve a miracle, and he still can't understand how he could have failed. But that's okay. We'll achieve that miracle for him."

Now little Ayaka looked worried. "Oneechan. Have you been skipping your medication again?"

Manaka giggled and lowered the front of her pretty pink dress just a bit, revealing white skin stained by wide, pitch black marks shaped like a sinister set of wings, right above her small, perky breasts. "I think they should have been red, they appeared a bit late, and they should've been on my hand, but it's okay, other than that it's all right. It doesn't matter anyway… I'm going to meet my charming prince, Ayaka-chan. And we're going to live happily ever after!"

* * *

Nasu Kinoko and Type-Moon created and own _Fate/Stay Night_ , _Fate Prototype_ , _Fate Zero_ , _Fate EXTRA_ , _Fate Extella_ , _Fate Apocrypha_ , _Fate/Strange Fake_ , _Fate Kaleid Liner Prisma Illya_ , and _Fate Grand Order_.

All other characters and franchises are the intellectual properties of their respective copyright holders.

* * *

 **Fields of Fate.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Countdown to Zero.**

* * *

A very young girl with light brown hair, dressed in the traditional clothes of a kendo trainee, practiced her swings and whacks on a training dummy in her father's backyard, when she heard something that sounded like a very big chicken being strangled coming from above. She looked up, and a huge white blur flew by over her, coming from the nocturnal distance and disappearing back into it just as soon.

"What th-!" this girl gasped, doubting for a moment before running back into the house. "Dad, Grandpa, boys!" she called out to a mature man and an even older one sitting at a table playing shogi, with three men in black suits respectfully standing guard by the door. "You won't believe this! I just saw a, some kinda beast THIS huge flying by!" she widened her arms open, gesturing frantically. "It was, like a winged horse, wow! Giorgio Tsoukalos-weird, guys! I swear it!"

The girl's father, the youngest of the two sitting men, sighed deeply. "And here we go again…"

The old man chuckled. "Let her be! I'd rather have her hyperactive imagination than all the rotten, half baked lies you made up at her age just to justify your sneaking out!"

"I wasn't imagining anything!" the girl roared. "I know what I saw! White wings, THIS wide! It was flying straight to the sea! You believe me, right, boys?" she asked the stoically silent trio, two of whom shuffled awkwardly on their feet oh so briefly.

Fujimura Raiga reached over and fondly patted his granddaughter's head. "Must've been an albatross, Taiga-chan. Sometimes they get lost while traveling all around the world and stray into seaside cities. That's all."

"What kind of albatross has four freaking legs?!" Taiga demanded. "And I could swear there was someone on it, screaming in panic, too! I think it was some chick, but it flew so fast, I—"

"It flew so fast your eyes tricked you," her father tiredly said. "You've been training too hard lately, why don't you give it a rest and head to bed already?"

Old Raiga nodded sagely, all the while cursing inwardly. He'd heard earlier that day Emiya Kiritsugu was back in the city, and weird crap like this always happened whenever he wandered in. Raiga only could hope, whatever it was about this time, it wouldn't be too destructive…

* * *

Meanwhile, the white flying figure rocketing across the night sky stuck to mostly solitary streets and avenues, always flying high enough as to avoid photographic detection. Rider moved expertly, finely honed instincts guiding her as she mostly ignored the desperate cries of the young man who dearly clung for life to her back.

"Aaaiiieeee!" Waver shrieked once more. "Y-You'll lose the War if I, if I die, you know! N-No offense, but not many would make a contract with a horse…! W-Why won't you just slow down alreadyyyyy!"

"I'm sorry, Master," she said, slowing down at last upon arriving to the seashore district, "but lives might be in the balance. Speed was of the essence."

"Of course lives were in the b-buh-balance! Starting with mine!" Waver babbled as Rider landed safely on a communications tower overlooking the whole area. "Wh-Where are those Servants anyway? I don't see them! M-Maybe they already left, or they killed each other, that'd be good, I—"

"There they are," Rider said, pointing her horn a couple of blocks down and away, where a musclebound gray giant wearing nothing but purple pants had just crashed down before two female Servants, growling aggressively at them.

"… I hate my life," Waver decided, then pulled out a set of magical glasses from his breast pocket, analyzing the enemies with more detail. Being raised by magi among other magi, he didn't recognize the towering man the way Maiya had, although he still looked somehow familiar; but he still could deduce a few facts from his appearance alone. "Berserker! That's got to be Berserker!"

"Are you sure?" Rider asked. "It's always awful judging others just because of their appearances. Who knows, he might be a Caster who works out a lot, after all, a healthy mind belongs into a healthy body…"

Then the male Servant roared bestially and charged at the other two like an out of control train, sending them flying several feet back instantly, in a blink of an eye.

"—nah, it's Berserker," Waver clucked his tongue with a twist of his eyebrows. "I'm fairly sure I'm not profiling him for the simple sake of it…"

* * *

 _Sajyou Residence:_

"This.. this is…" Ayaka gasped as Manaka led her into the family's attic. Ayaka had been there before, but not often; Father would perform rituals there, but while he'd often say someday Ayaka would fully devote herself to the family's craft, so far he only actively trained Manaka, his firstborn. The prodigy.

"Yes! I have been working on it, isn't it wonderful?" Manaka smiled, spinning like a ballerina around the wide domed room, painted in complex patterns all over, walls and ceilings and floor alike, with the blood of twelve beheaded white pigeons, their bodies arrayed in a circle Manaka used now to pirouette over, finally stopping at its middle with a grand gesture. "With this, I shall call forth the prince."

Ayaka shuddered. "Does… Does Father know about this?"

"Of course not, he's not been here since he lost his faith, one week ago," Manaka hummed, crouching down to touch one of the lines of blood on the floor with a delicate fingertip. "Excellent, it's dry now. I can begin."

Ayaka felt her fear increasing greatly. "Your… Your medicine…"

"I've been flushing it down the toilet. I don't need it!" her sister favored her with a charming smile. "Calm down, Ayaka-chan. I'm not going to hurt you. That would disrupt the balance. After all, how would a little girl go along with twelve pigeons? A successful summon demands for a harmonic catalyst…"

Ayaka, while still about to break into sobbing, nodded as best as she could. "Thanks… Thank you, Oneechan… but… shouldn't the blood, shouldn't it be fresh? Father said—"

"Father failed, I will succeed," Manaka said, standing up with a strange look in her eyes. "The prince can't be a Saber, an Archer, a Lancer, a Rider, a Caster, or even a Berserker or Assassin anymore. It's a shame, I really really wanted a Saber, but Father wasted too long with methods that didn't work. That's life!" she shrugged with the resigned smile of a good sport. "That's fine though, I just need to summon him in another Class. Maybe it's better that way. We'll play with our own set of rules."

Ayaka trembled, hoping Manaka wouldn't make the mental connection maybe 'Not following the old rules anymore' could also mean 'Maybe I could mix Imouto's blood with the pigeons' after all!' So she restrained herself from pointing out there were supposed to be only seven Classes and that even she knew that much. But apparently that wasn't crossing her sister's mind as she kicked her bare feet around and began strutting rhythmically around the circle, chanting to the tune of a melody that only existed in her own head.

 _"O Guardian of Equilibrium! He who holds the balances. He who tips the scales of Justice. With all the evils of Hades, with all the virtues of Elysium, I cover myself, and call forth the one who died, not for our sins, but to become our sins!"_

Ayaka wasn't sure that would work, even for someone as talented as Manaka. She remembered their father chanting something vaguely familiar after locking himself up in that very same attic over several straight days weeks ago, but that didn't follow the same phrasing, and obviously, from his later frustration, it hadn't worked then either anyway. Then again, maybe Manaka had somehow hit the correct spell, although right now it sounded like she was making it up on the fly.

Manaka swung her hips in place playfully. _"Break the chains foolishly binding you to the abyss! Rise, and usher on a new era where we will write our own laws! We shall summon the dead! We shall shatter the barriers! We shall fight the elements! He who should not be there, he who must appear to rattle the world! In your name and mine, in the name of Vengeance!"_

And then there was a huge explosion of light that toppled little Ayaka down on her butt, making her cry. She backed away against the wall, shakily hugging her legs against herself. Manaka laughed in triumph, a terrible crystal clear laugh that Ayaka had never heard before, standing tall and proud, while her prince rose from the floor to face her, looking at her with passive, beautiful golden eyes on a boyishly handsome pale face.

He was very short, even shorter than Manaka. A child, but there was nothing childish or innocent about his curt, dry expression. He wore a plain, militaristic, buttoned up gray uniform, with shiny golden cuffs on his long sleeves, and his hair was short and white.

"I am Servant Avenger," he told Manaka, his voice just as calm and lifeless as his face. "Would you happen to be my Master?"

By a twist of Fate, Manaka had just found her Prince.

* * *

 _The Boulevard:_

Saber rolled around with the impact, never falling on her back, but spinning around as to fall on her feet, boots screeching to a halt on the pavement. She cracked a satisfied smile as she ran a hand over her mouth, wiping out a single thin trail of red while the other hand spun her Invisible Air in place, calculating the next strike.

Lancer, as per the custom of her Class, was not as fortunate, dropping like a rock for a moment, but she sprang back to her feet almost as soon. The female Servants exchanged a quick glance, as if silently agreeing to a short truce against the disproportionate beast standing before them, crunching his hands together.

"Berserker," Saber seethed the word, trying to gauge how much of a degree of actual reasoning he still held onto. The answer was a short grunt filled with contempt.

"That'd be me, yeah. Any last words? Any Noble Phantasms you'd like to waste?"

Saber and Lancer considered that in a grim silence. On one hand, Berserkers were, as a general rule, nearly impossible to defeat through conventional means. That was the whole point of applying Mad Enhancement, otherwise a major disadvantage, upon them. On the other, once a Noble Phantasm is activated, especially before any other Servants or familiars that might be spying on the procedures, the Servant loses the surprise element of their greatest trump card, an extra edge that never can be regained. Lancer seemed especially reluctant, almost afraid, to invoke hers.

"Master?" she softly asked, just enough as to qualify as out aloud.

 _Let Einzbern's Servant use hers first,_ Kayneth's voice answered in her mind. _It's still too early into the War. For all we know this could be a setup for us to show our hand; you are not to be the first to reveal yourself, Lancer!_

She nodded calmly, then raised the staff and waved it, trying another variety of attack instead. "Glaive Surprise!" she shouted, and a large pulse of pristine white was projected forward, hitting the giant squarely on his wide bare chest, pushing him several feet back but never dropping him on his back. He roared in anger more than pain, and when the light receded, his chest was bleeding copiously; but just as quickly, the wounds were closing themselves, to Saber and Lancer's awestruck eyes and Irisviel's muted gasp of shock.

"Is that all? Good," he snarled, then swinging his arms before himself, with an incredible speed for someone that big. Saber and Lancer ducked under the swing, aided by their small sizes, and each seized one side of him, thrusting their respective weapons into a set of ribs. Saber's invisible blade sank in, drawing out a thick splurt of blood, but Lancer's only made a superficial cut, as she was kicked in the chest and shoved back roughly, forcing her to acrobatically rotate to a stop, panting while struggling to remain on her feet, clutching her chest.

 ** _"RRRRRRR!"_** Berserker growled while Saber twisted Invisible Air into the wound, deepening and widening it, causing him further pain that only maddened him even moreso. He tugged back, as Saber's hands seemed to slip and lose their grasp on the unseen weapon. Immediately after, however, she gestured with her right hand, which was thrust forward, and if the small smile she made after was any indication, she had just regained possession of the sword. "You… HURT ME…!"

Drooling savagely, he advanced like a crazed ape, smashing his feet and fists alike against the pavement and sending large chunks of it flying around in all directions. "Smash you! Crush you! LEAVE YOU FLAT! I'm SICK OF YOU!"

Lancer maneuvered aside, out of the immediate range of his rampage, while Saber, who had been closer to him, took on the full brunt of it. The swordswoman swung her blade before herself repeatedly, parrying and blocking the impact of his blows and sending rippling shockwaves through the air, each collision resulting in a cracking explosion like that of a small bomb.

After several of these accelerated exchanges, which Iri's eyes barely could follow on, it seemed Berserker was gaining the figurative and literal upper hand, his fists coming closer and closer to Saber's skull each time, the blonde being pushed back closer to Irisviel and Shielder. And so, just as the behemoth pulled an arm back and readied his strongest blow yet, something came in as a blur between him and Saber. When the fist descended again, it clashed against an even bigger shield, the echo of it sounding all across the area in a succession of hollow, haunting echoes.

Berserker raised an eyebrow at the shield bearer who had managed, somehow, to block one of his demented attacks. "Oh?"

"I'm Shielder, Servant of Absolute Defense," the new warrior opposing him said clear and honestly. "And as long as I can stand, my Lord will not fall to anyone!"

* * *

"I never wanted to be a damn dogcatcher…" Matou Byakuya muttered bitterly, pushing another large crate full with barking or whining, all anxious dogs into Matou Manor. Kariya's older brother, he was even less apt at magic than he was, not that Byakuya cared. He hated all of that overcomplicated magical nonsense, and only his apathy and incompetence at succeeding on his own had prevented him from fleeing Zouken's shadow like Kariya had done until the old patriarch had claimed Sakura for the family.

He wheeled the latest crate into the basement, where that creepy weird witch had set shop up with his uncle. As usual, he avoided eye contact with the little girl half submerged into worms, partially out of pity but mostly out of disgust. "Are we done for tonight?" he asked, rolling the sleeves of his black shirt up to reveal several scratches and bite marks all over his arms. "I'm going to need vaccination, you know! Why don't you just use magic to lure all these critters here anyway?!"

"Hold your tongue, damned fool!" Zouken hissed at him. "Caster needs to save her prana for more important tasks. Be happy you get to be useful for once in your life!"

"Leave them over there, thank you very much, Errand Boy," Caster coldly said, not deigning Byakuya with a look as she worked on a prior batch of stray cats and dogs delivered to her. She had installed some sort of primitive laboratory of horrors, full of bubbling black cauldrons and sharp metallic tools, where she ran several blasphemous experiments at once. Caster currently stood by a row of unfortunate animals that were slow and painfully mutating to stand on both hind legs, the other two clawing and slashing in a torturous process of change into arms. "Human resources would yield better results, but these goons will suffice for the time being."

Byakuya nodded, rubbing himself on an arm. "Then, will I be needed for something else tonight, or—"

"Three more rounds," Caster commanded. "The night is still young, boy. Are you tired already?"

"Listen, ma'am, this isn't an easy job," Byakuya groaned. "The cops make it difficult, what if one should catch me? What if one of them caught me and asked what am I doing with this van full of strays in the dead of the night? It's not like I can hypnotize people!"

"Then bring that policeman here and I will be glad to give him his answers… and Caster will have the captain of her troops," Zouken sneered. "Unless you wish to hold that honor yourself, lad."

Byakuya backed away instantly, panicking. Another glance at the caged animals that were being turned into 'goons' and those already changed, sitting at the corners scratching fleas off themselves with toothy grins and brutal guffaws, was terrifying enough; the idea of being turned himself into one of those imps and gnomes scared him out of his mind. "I, I will see what can I do!"

Caster nodded. "I'm so glad to hear that. So, Master, about your intelligence on further current developments…"

"My familiars have detected Kariya's Servant engaging in combat with two Servants at once, near the waterfront," the head of the house said while Byakuya hastily excused himself out. "The Saber and the Lancer. Against my expectations, Berserker appears to have the advantage. It would seem his initial appearances were deceiving indeed…" he smiled wickedly.

"Saber," Caster pondered, stopping briefly in her dark arts. With their Magic Resistance, their privileged position at the top of the Servant chain, and their legends' proclivity to link them to the slaying of sorcerers, Sabers were the primary source of concern for most Casters upon revival. "Let your familiars show Diablo the way, Master. I wish to have first hand information on that battle, if you don't mind."

"Gladly," Zouken agreed, gesturing and making several buzzing insects swarm around Caster's winged pet, leading it out of the basement. It already felt like the old times again. Setting out for the Root with a Servant to match his own heart; but this time around, the Tohsaka representative was nothing but a conceited fool, and Acht was senile and had sent a naïve child in his stead. Zouken was sure all outsiders would be a non factor, dolts out of their depth in the power struggle between the three great families. And best of all, this time that accursed Darnic had missed the deadline, unable to meddle either. Surely, the Grail was his for the taking this time, at last, after so long…

* * *

 _The Boulevard:_

Berserker stared down at this small girl who had just intercepted his mighty fist. "Shielder? That's a new one," he growled. "Debut and farewell, then!" With that, he brought both fists down on this time, hammering mercilessly on the shield that the comparatively tiny Servant held over her head, stubbornly enduring the thundering and relentless assault.

With matching battle cries of renewed anger, Saber and Lancer struck at him from the sides again, and this time both drew blood, although once again Berserker swatted them aside. "So this is how it's gonna be, huh?! Three on one?! Fine with me! I'm used to those odds and worse! Bring on all Servants, for all I care…!"

High above, Rider flinched at this latest challenging roar. "This is very bad!"

"Wh-What are you saying? It's great!" Waver gulped. "If he takes three Servants out all at once, that's much less left for us to do later—Oh! You mean… it's bad he's so powerful, right? Do you… Don't you think you can take him on?"

"It's not that," Rider said. "All this brutality, this senseless massacre… This shouldn't go this way. Hold on firmly, Master," she then swooped down with Waver still on her back, much to his displeasure and horror.

"Wha-What are you doooooooiiiing?! Oh, no, Rider, don't do this, what are you thinkiiiiiiiing….!"

Berserker kept on pummeling with his fists in all directions, spitting and howling like a possessed beast, with Lancer, Saber and Shielder running in apparently wild and erratic circles meant to confuse all around him, attacking him from all directions, further destroying more of the boulevard with each blast of eldritch magical energy, burst of compressed wind, or whack of table-shield.

"Oh my…" a fascinated Irisviel said from the sidelines. "So this is what being a superhero is about… Massive destruction of public property!"

It was actually exciting for someone who only had seen private property while growing up and didn't quite understand the value of communitarian belongings just yet.

"You shouldn't have interfered!" Saber was telling Shielder while dodging the latest stomp of a massive foot. "Now you have left your post open!"

"I was told to assist you in the event a second enemy appeared!" Shielder reminded her, deflecting a lamppost Berserker had just singlehandedly ripped off and tossed at them. "But even if I hadn't, you know I'll always protect your back as long as there's breath in this body of mine!"

"That won't be much longer!" Berserker promised,. Lunging at her before being blasted back by a ray from above, hitting him directly in the face. The gray goliath rolled across the broken sidewalk while a majestic figure floated down from the sky, on gigantically wide white wings spread open, with a much less imposing and much smaller figure desperately clinging to its back in a rather less dignified manner.

Shielder blinked. "This, this is…?"

"Helios?!" Lancer gasped, mistaking the newcomer for a memory of her own past. Just what she needed right now, that creepy stalker who had tried to woo Chibi-Usa-chan away…

"It is…" Saber said, mouth wide open and eyes suddenly sparkling, before, much to Iri's surprise, adding the very same thing the homunculus herself was thinking _"… beautiful!"_

Was Saber blushing now? No, Irisviel told herself, surely that couldn't be it, she had to be imagining things…

Berserker got back to his feet, wiping blood off his nose. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

The four legged creature landed gently before them, speaking in a clear, firm and regal tone. "Good evening, all of you. I am Servant Rider, and this is my Master. Honored to meet you, brave warriors from this world's past. I hope you will listen to what I have to say before looking at us as enemies, for there are matters in the balance that demand us to act as the heroes we are, not as the killers we are expected to be…"

From his vantage point, Kiritsugu sighed in exasperation. "God help me, I can't help but agree with the gorilla. What the flaming hell…?"

Berserker himself was hardly amused either. "I can't believe this! So who's next, Howard the Duck?!"

Lancer, at the very least, seemed relieved now she got a better look at Rider. _Oh, good, it isn't that freaky Casanova Pegasus after all…!_

* * *

Once upon a time, there had been a perfect, peaceful land where a superior race lived secluded from the rest of a chaotic universe. These beings had achieved a status of enlightenment where all countries in their planet had erased the concept of borders and embraced each other as a whole. All men and women viewed each other as beloved brothers and sisters and lived accordingly, working together to eradicate concepts as pollution, famine or war. They created an utopia of clean streets, pure air, and harmony with nature. It was a truly happy and self realized world.

Then one day, a baby boy was born.

The child was, physically, no different from any other in that paradise, perhaps just slightly bigger than the average, but not really bigger than some others, either. But while all prior newborns of his species had, during recorded history, been well behaved and quiet, this one ripped and tore his way out of the womb, savagely cutting his own mother from the inside in the delivery room. Then, just as soon as he emerged with a feisty burp, he jumped for the throat of the doctor and claimed his second ever victim. This respected physician was fortunate, since for him, it was over quickly. The grinning little white creature took his time with the confused nurses.

That first outburst sated, the child's father somewhat managed to rein him back for the next few years. The utopia had abandoned and forgotten the notions of punishment and imprisonment eras ago, and so the wild child was allowed to walk among the perfected society, more or less quietly at first, the occasional maimed nanny or podiatrist aside. But then a momentous time came, and the child entered school.

Tribb was the first one to recognize him for what he truly was, to accuse him on it, to warn others, just to be ignored by her peers and superiors. This respected educator was the child's first and longest lasting tutor, and her keen mind recognized the signs of something different in him. In turn, he seemed to spur on the worst of other children, who abandoned their own steadfast principles of civility to gang up and bully on him. This proved being a grave mistake, for not only this little reprobate was even meaner, but also stronger, faster and smarter, and soon he was the only one to show up for Miss Tribb's morning lesson, smiling and bathed on blood.

Tribb broke the taboo and left the planet in terror, foreseeing the tragedy to come. This spared her from the genocide, even though years later her former student would find and frag her regardless, truly becoming the last of his species. But this was still far ahead into the future. For now, the child was growing up into teenagehood, letting his hair grow as wild as his rebellious strike, stumbling from one academy to the next, showing a blatant lack of interest on the conventional education but forging his own brand of self-formation. He somehow found a way to gather communication signals from other planets, mostly to listen to disruptive, obscene and brutal lyrics of alleged music he would call 'heavy metal'. He learned the ways of the most feared and cruel empires of the galaxy, the Khunds, the Dominators, the hordes of Apokolips, from their spacefaring transmissions. He called them 'kewl, man!'

He also began dabbling into chemistry and mechanics.

And one day, without any warning, he unleashed the lethal airborne black plague on a planet that had not known of serious illness through millennia. He sat back, listening to his rock 'n roll, as he watched his compatriots roll over and die in long drawn agony, their own healing factors overcome by a disease he had just injected himself with the only batch of cure ever. He chuckled, then laughed, for days as the grotesque show of neighbors and strangers alike turning around from inside, vomiting their entrails all over the streets, until the once pristine Eden was quiet once again, this time with the calm of the dead spreading everywhere.

Then the young man finished his beer, tossed the can back over his shoulder, belched, and growled a pleased, "Well… time ta hit th' road, then! 'Twas fun, folks!" He jumped into a vehicle of his own design that Kirei already knew well, turned it on, and fearlessly blasted out into space with a lengthy perverse laugh…

"- Kirei! Kirei, please, wake up!" his father was begging him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. "Good Lord, boy, I was worried! You weren't waking up no matter what!"

"I… I wasn't?" Kirei blinked, sitting up straighter on his church office chair, rubbing his sweaty forehead. That dream… that powerful feeling of raw evil and carnage only for their own sake… "Sorry, I believe I dozed off, that's all… What is it, father? What is the urgency?"

Kotomine Risei sighed. "It's Tokiomi. He has just called. He wants, no, demands to know where Assassin is right now…"

* * *

 _The Boulevard:_

Saber kept on staring at Rider in mild fascination for a few seconds before forcing herself to blink back into her usual business-like attitude. Invisible sword steadily in hand, she told the quadruped Servant, "Now, be honest, Rider, is that is who you really are! What is the true meaning of this interruption? What is the point of disrupting a proper joust between champions?"

Shielder blinked. "Are you some sort of thrillseeker looking to fight us all at once?"

"I stand by what I have just said," Rider coolly said. "Is this violence really necessary? Must we, as Heroic Spirits, descend into this savagery without discussing matters first?"

"What are you saying, Rider?!" Waver shrieked from her back. "This is a Grail War! War! A-As in violence, fights! Th-That is what you are here for in the f-first place!"

Berserker grunted. "The lady's right, Gladys. Anyway, if you're telling that to a Berserker, you're neighin' up the wrong tree!"

"I'm a man!" Waver protested.

"Sure, and so is she!" Berserker huffed Saber's way.

"I am where it matters the most!" Saber proclaimed.

"Just because we are supposed to do something, that's no reason to do it without questioning it at all, especially if it is a morally dubious course of action," Rider argued, undeterred. "If you ascended to the Throne of Heroes, you must be individuals who did far more than just following orders mindlessly! Ask yourselves if whatever you wish may be, it is worth wasting your gifts on destroying each other, when we could be joining forces for this world's good!"

"Great, Pegasus turned out an idealist," Kiritsugu mumbled.

Meanwhile, Berserker ran a a hand down his face. "I'm not listening to this horsecrap from a literal horse! You finished, Wings?" He have a strong stomp ahead, towards her. "'Cause ready or not, now I'm going to SMASH you!"

Rider did not even blink at the threat, only squinting with a disapproving scowl; but Waver shrieked and pulled back, until a cold, incorporeal laugh came from the shadows, making everyone pause again. _"So, Waver Velvet!"_ it said. _"I must admit being surprised you were stupid and brave enough as to actually come here, with a beast for a Servant, no less! Is this the best you could obtain from your shameless plunder?!"_

"L-Lord El Melloi!" Waver's teeth chattered.

"Archibald!" Kiritsugu hissed. Had he underestimated him? Surely he had some sort of new, unknown cloaking now, shielding him from detection…?

 _"I see my lessons, for once, fell short!"_ the disembodied voice taunted. _"What you still lack is experience to make you see the kind of born underachiever you are. Yes, you will have the honor of being taught from me, firsthand, on the way magi murder each other! You will experience that agony in every fine detail!"_

Rider slammed a hoof down. "Enough! This young man is under my protection! Threats to his wellbeing will not be tolerated! You, if you would have a problem with that, also have the courage and dignity of stepping out of hiding to tell us in our faces! Otherwise, we have no time to heed the words of a coward!"

"R-R-Rider!" Waver stammered. "D-Don't provoke him, he's the Master of Berserker after all…!"

"Uh… no," Berserker bluntly said. "First time I hear this idiot's voice."

"…" Waver said. Then he looked at the other Servants, one by one, perplexed. "Whuh…? Then… Then who…?"

Lancer raised a hand _very_ blandly.

Waver blinked many times in quick succession, then waved a fist at the darkness. "Wha, wha, what the hell! You have the freaking guts to mock me on summoning a Pegasus after you summon a kid?! Wh-Where do you get your catalysts, boutiques for little girls?!"

The unseen master was briefly heard uneasily shuffling around wherever he was. _"… that doesn't have anything to do with what we were just discussing!"_

"… a kid…" Lancer quietly said, a small vein bulging fleetingly on her forehead.

"That wasn't very friendly, Waver," Rider sighed. "And from what I gather, you stole that man's catalyst? It's no worse than what you did to the chickens, but stealing is not nice…"

Berserker raised an eyebrow. "You did **what** to chickens, now?"

"I, I, I just killed them for a ritual sacrifice!" Waver said. "Th-That was all! S-Sheesh, who has ever heard of a Berserker who cracks wise at people?"

Then another, even more callous and pompous loud laughter broke the night.

"Bwa ha ha ha! Inferior excuses for Servants, you all! Is this the rabble opposing me in this so-called war?! What a waste of my time!"

And then everyone looked up, and they first saw the glorious golden figure standing high above them, on a nearby two story jewelry store's roof, his silhouette stark against the silver disc of the moon, arms folded and a wide cruel smirk on his face. The Archer.

* * *

Elsewhere in Fuyuki, along the south borders of the city, as close to the forest of the mountains and away from the sea as possible, there were several small castles set by European magi centuries to decades ago, in a series of more or less successful attempts to keep surveillance on the leylines of an area otherwise deemed backwater and irrelevant. This relative lack of interest had caused most of those castles to be abandoned for a long time now, like the Einzberns', leaving the Tohsakas in undisputed control of the city's magicraft after the slow degradation of the Makiris.

There was activity that night in one of those decrepit castles, however. Its owner had last been in the country sixty years ago, but he barely looked past his early thirties, standing tall, lean and vital, with a full head of healthy blackish blue hair on top of handsome, not too rugged or delicate features. His clothing style, however, at least at the time being, was definitely old fashioned, even militaristic, with a classic martial uniform of pure white jacket and large, shiny golden buttons more fitting a war hero than anyone else. This man crouched by the circle he was drawing on the stone floor of a secret chamber, using the blood of freshly sacrificed deer.

"It will better work, Professor," he warned, standing back from his work. "Waiting for your delivery, I missed on all seven Classes, and I'm still not sure anything else can be summoned by now."

"You still keep the Command Seals, don't you?" asked the only other person in the dark room only lit by a few candles, a man with thick, bushy sideburns who pointed at the back of the aristocrat's right hand. "Rest at ease, our organization has made sure personally. Extra Classes can now be summoned without the same disastrous results the Einzberns got then. They just happened to select the wrong Servant."

"I sure hope so, for both our sakes," frowned the well dressed man, rubbing his seals uneasily. It felt like a lifetime ago, and it was, in more than one sense. He had been so close, that time. If not for Makiri's incompetent meddling, access to the Root would have been his, but now, Makiri had grown as senile as Acht if not moreso, and the current head of the Tohsakas was a far cry from his ancestors, not in talent, but in acumen. If there ever was a time when an outsider like him could pounce on a chance left by a power vacuum, this was it. He took in a deep breath. "Let get us started."

As he stood in place and began chanting slowly, the man waiting behind him tensed, a beep coming from one of many pockets in his thick long coat. Discreetly, he pulled away from the distracted magus with his back turned on him, stepping into the next room and pulling his cellphone out. Much like the man calling him over, he did not share the usual magus' despise for modern technology. "You chose a bad moment," he whispered to his caller.

The male voice of his true partner in this enterprise did not sound worried. "I had to call. We just got intelligence there's been another spike in leyline activity elsewhere in the city, meaning someone has summoned another Servant. At the same time at least four others are engaging in an all out melee by the shore. Aren't you and Prestone done yet?"

The tall man with the top hat glimpsed again into the next chamber, where several beams of light were erupting from the floor. It was… **black** light, however, but given the nature of the summoner and his choice of catalyst that hardly was a surprise. "I believe he's succeeding. Listen, I—"

"Then everything's fine. I'll contact you again tomorrow."

Just like that, the call was cut short, and the man of the top hat heaved a sigh. It couldn't be helped, he guessed. Men of true genius like that person always were eccentrics at best and deranged threats to everybody at worst. And speaking of that…

The Professor walked back into the summon chamber as Darnic Prestone laughed, arms spread in victory. "We have done it, Professor Lainur! Behold, the crystallization of the miracle!"

Lev Lainur smiled benevolently. "I told you so, Lord Prestone. And I couldn't be any happier."

A huge flock of black bats flew up from the summoning circle, gathering around the voluptuous, naked female form stepping out of the black light. They molded around her body, tightening around her flesh, turning into a skintight dark suit that accented her long, strong legs wrapped in leggings ornate with bat silhouette motifs, and her abundant cleavage. Sensually, she licked all over her full ruby lips. She tossed around her long, light green hair and struck a confident pose. Two large black bat wings sprouted from her back, a much smaller pair resting on her head, one at each side of it. When she spoke, it was with a heavy foreign accent, provocative and alluring, even though both men standing before her were long dead inside and could not care less about mere concerns of lust. Even if they recognized her forceful appeal for the valuable weapon it was.

"Good evening, boyas…" she purred, large lazy eyes half closed and shining mischievously. " I am Servant Temptress, owner of men's hearts; now, which one of you would be my fortunate Master…?"

* * *

 _Back to the boulevard:_

"What do I see below me?" the golden Servant asked, spreading his wide arms open. "Rats fighting each other, vermin flashing their tiny teeth! I expected for a true gathering of the greatest heroes, and what do I find? Children, a ridiculous horse, and a nude primate! What a laugh! Is there nobody worthy in this contest? Have I wasted my time coming here?"

"Don't look now, but Mr. Congeniality has just arrived," Lancer deadpanned, in a tone surprisingly sarcastic from such a small and cold girl. In all truth, she had experience dealing with this type of personalities before, they were the most frequent bombastic kind of adversary she and her comrades would face back in life, but she knew the unspoken rules when dealing with such foes. Just like they respected the transformation sequences, it was fair play to respect their cornball speeches.

Berserker, far less respectful of ceremony, stared up, slamming a foot downwards defiantly. "Well, but if it's the party's loudmouth, here at last! Why don't you come down here and tell me that on my face, Dandy Boy?"

"You wish I would stoop myself to touch your filthy bodies," the blond smiled evilly, gesturing as a large hole opened above him, tons of sharp weapons, mostly swords and spears, flowing out of it to hover threateningly over the other Servants. "When one kills flies, one swats them, not with one's hands, but through more proper means!"

And then the weapons rained down, in a veritable storm of projectiles pulverizing everything under the radiant Archer. Had Shielder not raised her barrier before herself, Saber and Irisviel, they would have been tagged at least twice each; something not necessarily lethal for the armored warriors, but certainly so for the all too vulnerable homunculus. Rider flew back with his screaming Master on her, surprisingly fast, moving out of the way right in time. Lancer set her own forcefield with her staff, managing to protect herself remarkably well. Berserker, however…

Berserker had only stood his ground, roaring as prana-loaded, sizzling blades bombarded him, a target all too large. He was pierced time after time while Gilgamesh allowed himself an elegant smile, his arsenal cutting and stabbing relentlessly. But then something happened that made Archer grimace instead, as Berserker, horribly sliced and slashed as he was, simply began laughing, a brutish, booming horrible laughter even as Noble Phantasms from all of history kept on striking him. Gilgamesh was reminded of his earlier fight with Assassin, but surely, unlike him, this beast could not survive—

"You're **_PUNY!"_** Berserker bellowed, raising his arms and slamming his gigantic hands together, with a single clap that was an explosion and a thunder at once. The female Servants, Irisviel and Waver were all tossed back further away from Berserker and Archer, while the unthinkable force of the clap was shot upwards towards Archer, sending his own cutting treasures that had been on their way down flying back to him instead.

"Guh…!" Archer gurgled, trying to cover his face with his arms, but too late; while all of the weapons colliding against his body simply bounced harmlessly off his armor, a few of those flying higher slashed and cut at his perfect face, and a second later, when he stopped the Gate of Babylon, he took a shaking hand to his features, only to find it covered in blood. "Why you, miserable cur…!"

Berserker grinned wickedly, pulling a large dagger out of his own mangled face, even as his body began quickly healing back. "What a cryin' shame," he snarked. "Did I smash your ladykiller looks? My bad! Maybe you can put on a metal mask, it worked for another pompous blowhard I knew!"

Kariya's voice in his head was jubilant. _That was wonderful, Berserker! That's it! Kill Tohsaka's Servant! Pulverize him! Destroy him right now!_

"You will pay, dastardly animal, villainous scum!" Archer swore in a paroxysm of rage. "To turn your Lord's fabled vault against him! To shatter his perfection, at the hands of one as vile as yourself! To-!"

"Aw, is it ruined forever already?" taunted another odious voice from behind him, startling and disgusting Gilgamesh. "Then ya won't mind if I do this, righto?!"

And a second later, a sizzling cigar was pressed deep into his damaged face by a dirty hand in a fingerless black leather glove. Gilgamesh screamed in pain, and, a moment later, as Shielder peeked up from behind Lord Camelot, she saw Archer punching Assassin out of his flying motorcycle, sending the strange white skinned Servant flying down like a rocket, until he crashed at the other end of the boulevard, opening a titanic burning crater.

"Well, wua it ruined or not, then?!" protested a furious voice from the bottom of the crater. "Make yer damn mind already! So what if yer ugly now, I swear I'll keep hatin' ya the same anyway!"

Rider sighed. "I truly miss Discord now."

"W-Who?" Waver babbled.

* * *

"Report, please," Kirei asked as he rushed into Tokiomi's choice for a control room of sorts, one of the largest halls in his mansion. Behind the young priest, Risei struggled to keep up with the pace of his son. The elder Tohsaka was fuming angrily, arms crossed behind his back, as Rin, still in pajamas and rubbing her sleepy eyes, sat at a corner, hugging her Neco Arc plushie. This made Kirei instantly realize the direness of the situation. For Tokiomi to bring his daughter, Archer's Master, there, he obviously foresaw a need for a Command Seal on the troublesome King of Uruk.

"Archer and Assassin have just both joined the melee," Tokiomi humorlessly said. "But I'm sure you already knew about Assassin's presence there, at least."

"Sorry, sir, I'm afraid I… I fell asleep for some reason…" Kirei apologized. "Must be the exhaustion from the preparations… Assassin consumes a lot of mana, as well."

"So does Archer, and I'm feeling just fine," Rin observed. Sometimes Kirei felt that child simply hated him for some reason he couldn't fathom and knew exactly what to say to make him look worse at any given time; not that he really cared one way or another.

"This threatens to expose our alliance," Tokiomi grumbled, "unless we use this chance to vanquish all enemies present at once. Lancer, Saber, Berserker, Rider and someone called a 'Shielder' are all there. If we dispose of them right now, that will leave Caster as the sole obstacle. Whoever they are, they should be no match for the combined power of Archer and Assassin."

"Well, yes, about that…" Risei coughed. "I received news on our way here. It seems two more Servants have just been summoned. We got calls from the Sajyou house and from Darnic Prestone registering Servants of their own."

"Seriously?!" Rin asked, vivaciously curious.

Tokiomi's eyebrows were raised almost impossibly. "What are you saying?! I know the Sajyous, they are nothing but local underachievers… and Prestone? Is that ghoul still alive?"

Risei nodded. "Furthermore, the Sajyou representative was quite proud of declaring her Servant to be… Avenger."

"I see," Tokiomi hummed. "Well, if it's as pathetic as the Avenger of the Einzberns in the Third War, this changes nothing. A miserable Servant for a miserable house." He clutched his gem-topped cane and smiled almost demonically, boiling with determination. "Our Servants' hubris will play in our favor. They will not allow their opponents leave that battlefield alive!"

* * *

Assassin climbed out of the crater, then shot a stare at the indignant Archer. "Yo, Gillian! Just gotta word from Altar Boy, an' I gotta admit he's gotta good point! I know ya wanna frag me… again… an' I sure as nuts wanna frag ya, but what if we waste these losers first?! C'mon, it won't take more t'n a few minnits!"

Archer sneered proudly. "Buffoon, I don't have to follow instructions from you or anyone! You were supposed to be—"

"Dead?" Assassin chuckled grisly, playing with the huge hook now in his hand, eyeing the other Servants sadistically. "Whatsa matter, Dollface, all bark an' no bite? If we burst these bozos right here 'n now, we only gotta frag Caster next, and it's a Caster, feetal's gizz! A milk run!"

Waver tightened his grip on Rider even further, gulping loudly.

Archer looked at everyone with icy contempt. "They must die since their mere existence offends me, true, but I refuse to mingle with the rabble on their own level…"

"What, afraid of comin' down from your perch to start boasting on my face, Chuckles?" Berserker grunted. "Not like tossing your junk at me from above worked at all, right?!"

Archer seethed venomously at the almost fully recovered giant, grabbing two of his longest swords and leaping down to the rubble. "All of you will perish at my hands, unsightly vermin! I shall have to bathe for days to wash your stench off me, but it will be worth it!"

Rider frowned. "You are insane."

"… mother!" Waver eeped.

"Haw haw! Dat's better, Goldie!" Assassin stepped over to stand beside Archer. "Tell ya what, let's make it a game! Whoever snuffs the most dweebs wins! I'll even let ya pick who ya wanna try first!"

"I want the mad dog, you handle whoever you want," Gilgamesh glacially replied. "But be warned, you too shall be annihilated after they fall. I am saving the worst for last."

"Woo, I'm shakin'!" Lobo laughed, then stuck his tongue out to Berserker. "Sorry, Big Boy, but you gotta dance with Blondie first! Solomon Grundy, right? A honor, dude! Any enemy o' Superman is okay in th' Main Man's book!"

"Solomon Grundy? Like the nursery rhyme?" Berserker snorted. "Sorry, but you got the wrong man. And anyway, I'm sick of all this stupid talking!" he roared, charging ahead at Gilgamesh while all hell broke loose again.

"Yee-haw!" Lobo took aim and began shooting at the other Servants, with Saber and Lancer managing to block some of his pulse blasts with their weapons, and Shielder managing to stop the rest. "You gals are lucky, tonight's a special Ladies' Night at the Lobo Lounge! All chicks get extra discounts on their fraggin'! Th' horsefucker pays in full, tho'!"

"Have some respect!" Rider demanded, shooting a blast from her horn and literally vaporizing the gun off a surprised Assassin's hand. Meanwhile, Berserker's insane fury had quickly pushed Archer back and into the defensive, but the smaller Servant had quickly reopened his Gate of Babylon, dropping even more treasures and tools, now most of them of the heavy and blunt varieties, on the gray giant to stall him. Being much closer now, Berserker could not use the thunderclap trick again without first giving an opening to Archer.

The golden warrior aimed true and skillfully, sinking one of his blades, swung upwards, into the monster's throat, then twisting it around in attempt to behead him. Berserker, in more pain now than before, lashed out before Archer could finish cutting his neck all the way, punting the King away from him and into a wall. The man beast then doubled on himself, unable to speak, coughing up huge splotches of dark blood all over the shattered pavement instead.

At the same time, Lobo produced his hook and chain out again, swinging them around with a feral guffaw. "'Kay, I liked that, Horsie! I'm almost gonna regret turnin' ya into glue wit' dis instead…"

Then, however, Shielder swept herself, ducking under the spinning hook, and bashed him in the face with Lord Camelot. _"One!"_ she shouted.

Assassin blinked, briefly stunned by the direct hit. "One? One o' what?!"

 _"Two!"_ Shielder said next, slamming the shield down on his head.

Lobo gurgled, eyes popping out comically. "… oh! One, two, I get it now! An' what's—"

 _"THREE!"_ Shielder cried then, ramming the massive thing straight against Assassin's crotch, eliciting a long pitched whine from him just as he flew over to get imbedded into the same wall as Archer.

"… I think I'm in love now," Lobo then quietly told his fellow Servant. "You?"

"Oh, just— **SHUT! UP!"** Archer literally exploded himself out of the wall with a huge golden flash, sending pieces of it flying everywhere. One of them clonked Waver in the head and instantly knocked him out, as he splayed himself all over Rider's back. Another almost hit a gasping Irisviel, but Saber reduced it to dust with a swing of her invisible blade before it could even graze the homunculus.

"Master!" Rider gasped. "Oh dear, Master, are you okay?!"

Archer flexed a hand in and off, staring murderously at everyone present. "Do you really think you may make a mockery out of the greatest of all kings and live?! Mongrels! No, worse than mongrels! Slime! Sacks of protoplasm! Fetid blobs of excrement! You now shall face the ultimate power of-!"

Before he could invoke Ea and end most of the War right then and there, however, Berserker simply kicked him high into the sky.

* * *

"This isn't going to work," Kirei predicted.

"It has to work," Tokiomi disagreed with an intense, fiery stare in his eyes. "We are gambling too much on it."

"And thus, it is much that we could lose," the young priest observed evenly. "Archer has let himself be drawn into a disadvantageous position. Fighting in close range like that, he is no match for Berserker, and he and Assassin simply refuse to work together."

"We could force them," Tokiomi squeezed his right fist into his left hand, almost trembling with rage.

"Respectfully, sir," his disciple said, "I must point out you cannot enforce the ability to work well with others, even through a Command Seal. We can certainly force them to try… but their true natures will not allow it regardless. Assassin might survive this only because of his healing factor, but Archer…"

Tokiomi bubbled inside with a powerful mix of conflicting emotions, but then he gazed over at Rin and forced himself to calm down. "Very well," he told the younger Kotomine. "You might be correct after all."

* * *

"… wow," Lancer said quietly, her gaze following the Archer's trajectory until he was another golden ping among the stars. "I must say, that _was_ impressive."

"Guy talks way too much," Berserker grouched. "Oh, come on now, doesn't he **ever** tire?!"

For, just as quickly, Archer was zooming back down, to land back right where he'd been moments ago, gorgeous armor battered but not cracked yet, face strained but still fully energetic. "You… despicable… You…!" he trembled in fury, readying another sword already.

 _Archer, that'll be enough,_ sounded the small voice of his Master in his mind. _Just get back already, will you?_

"No!" he shouted. "Just be quiet, child! I will not rest until these abominations are all dead! They have insulted me for the last time!"

"Yeah, what he said, Padre!" Assassin growled to his own Master's voice, rising from the rubble Archer had buried him into when he destroyed the wall. "A guy's gotta pride to look after, right?! Mebbe someday ya'll understand, when ya become a man yerself!"

Kirei's voice sighed tiredly. _How much do I have to pay you to come back to me right now?_

One second later, after a brief, faint sound that reminded one of a cashing machine going off from his head, Lobo vanished in a flash, with a wide greedy grin on.

"Well now," Berserker said, cracking his huge knuckles together, "looks like Biker Boy left ya to hang dry, didn't he…?"

Gilgamesh squinted indignantly and, much to Berserker's own surprise, somehow managed to move fast enough as to actually grab him by the throat, and actually make him feel his squeeze. "You got a reprieve only tonight, animal. Next time, you die!" he swore, before disappearing in silence as well.

Berserker blinked, then scowled. "… well. Now that was a dud. Waste of our time, Master!" he chuckled disturbingly after that, disappearing too much to the others' confusion.

But after a moment, Rider sighed. "Of course. Berserkers waste so much prana, his Master must have commanded him to retreat. What about you? Do you still desire to continue this wanton foolishness?"

"There is no foolishness in a War fought for a noble cause, Rider," Saber sternly said. "I appreciate pacifism, but there are instances where it is sadly out of place."

"I know," Rider said, starting to ascend with her unconscious, spiral-eyed Master secured on top of her. "I only hoped this wouldn't be one of such cases. Farewell, Saber. I do pray we don't have to meet again as enemies."

"So do I, actually," Saber calmly said as they watched her fly off.

"Master will be disappointed," Lancer sadly mused while starting to disappear, too. "Saber, I would have liked it better had we been able to battle one on one…"

And then she was gone as well.

"Ah!" Irisviel said at last, following several moments of silent awkwardness. "That was anticlimactic, wasn't it? I mean, I'm glad no one died, but…"

"It's only a matter of time," Saber stated grimly. "Tonight, we only were gauging each other." She looked at the hilt of her sword, the only currently visible part of it. "Next time, I will have to pronounce your True Name, old friend…"

* * *

 **Statistics:**

Class: Archer.

True Name: Gilgamesh of Uruk.

Other Names and Aliases: King of Heroes, Mankind's Oldest Hero, First of Heroes, Golden Hero, Gil, Gil-Gil.

Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Origin: _The Epic of Gilgamesh_ (Summeria),

Strength: B.

Endurance: C.

Agility: C.

Mana: B.

Luck. A.

Noble Phantasm: EX.

 **Class Skills:**

 **Independent Action:** A+.

Gilgamesh has an incredible capacity for spending little prana despite a very liberal use of his abilities, thanks to his semi divine status. A carefree, stubborn and independent person with little tolerance for others' suggestions or controls, he will try and stray away from a Master's influence as soon as possible, and has the means to do so, although he's known to stick around individuals he will consider 'interesting' on a whim.

 **Charisma:** A+.

A born leader, Gilgamesh's strong personality overcomes those around him. Through pure personal charm, strength of word, and pure relentless verbiage, most will soon feel willing to overlook his character flaws and follow him because of a combination of fear, respect and actual admiration. Those who are of divine or royal blood and gifted with the Charisma or Mind Pollution skills can avoid the effects of this personal buff, however.

 **Personal Skills:**

 **Divinity:** B.

Gilgamesh is, by birth, three quarters god and one quarter human, so this Skill should be ranked A+; however, as he grew up to hate the gods, his own despise for the divine lowered this level in his Saint Graph. Gilgamesh will, by default, tend to question any being he perceives as godlike, and he will rebel against them at the first sign of what he perceives as injustice.

 **Magic Resistance:** E.

A special case. Gilgamesh has a very low level of this Skill in his body (again, one that would be greatly increased if he embraced his divine heritage), but for practical purposes, the staggering amount of anti-magic charms, seals and wards he has collected (see next Skill) has augmented his imperviousness to magic to an A. He can plow through the attacks of most Casters, even those from the Age o Gods, with ease.

 **Collector:** EX.

Through his life, Gilgamesh gathered all riches the world had to offer in his time, and as first of Kings, he considers himself entitled to possession of anything created through human history. He owns weapons, tools, and assorted objects from all points of mankind's development, which he stores in the Gate of Babylon; however, this doesn't mean he knows how to use them all. He is, regardless, a decent swordsman, rider and driver, and even spellcaster, although nowhere in the level of true specialists. It is important to note Gilgamesh has no access to items exclusive to alien societies or civilizations of gods or demons.

 **Golden Rule:** A.

A paragon of physical fitness and male beauty, Gilgamesh's body is naturally athletic and doesn't deteriorate with age or his luxurious, hedonistic lifestyle, thanks to a combination of an active outlook and divine ascendance. His attractiveness adds to the charm effect he has on people, other than those with extremely high willpower or unusual tastes concerning beauty. And yes, even if you're a man you'll go gay for him.

 **Noble Phantasms:**

 **Gate of Babylon:** E- A++.

A special storage where Gilgamesh keeps his vast treasure. In battle, it manifests as a barrage of weaponry discharged from the King's vault, a massive onslaught of lethal instruments relentlessly raining on the adversary at a fast pace. As Gilgamesh has no fine control over exactly which weapons will drop at a given time, the effect of the Noble Phantasms flung may vary greatly, but eventually, the sheer size of the barrage will mean something will connect to the desire effect unless the Phantasm is interrupted. Once this Gate is stopped by Gilgamesh, all used weapons will immediately return to his arks.

 **Enuma Elish:** _Star of Genesis Separating Heaven and Earth:_ A++.

Ea, Gilgamesh's ultimate Noble Phantasm, the embodiment of the first sword, drilling from above and cutting through material space. Used without caution, it might pierce across Earth and destroy it.

 **Enkidu:** _The Chains of Heaven:_ A+.

Powerful chains that are said to bind even gods, named after Gilgamesh's close comrade and sole true friend. It has been stated breaking free from them would require EX ranked strength, a miracle as no human being can achieve that level, not even a demigod. With them, Gilgamesh can crush an enemy or simply hold them in place for another kind of finisher.

 **Summon:** "Mwaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Mongrel! You must have used all your luck, just to be able to catch my attention!"

 **Likes:** "Naturally, I love treasures more than anything else. The achievements of humanity are for their King to collect and appreciate with proper wisdom, after all!"

 **Dislikes:** "Another easy answer! Mediocrity, the unwillingness to live your existence to its fullest, offends my sense of achievement! I hate all lives that will not exploit their true potential! Keep that in mind, mongrel!"

 **Holy Grail:** "If it truly is a great treasure, then it's already mine. It is just a matter of walking to it and grabbing it. As for a wish, what could I receive that I could not achieve on my own?"

 **Birthday** : "Today? The day of your birth?" Fool! You should have told me one week in advance! Even the smallest celebration must be prepared properly!"

 **Event:** "Oh? Another festival for the masses? Very well. You have my permission to attend, mongrel."

 **Extra Dialogue:**

"King of Knights: Hah! I suppose it is an apt description. But even a King of Knights answers to a King of Kings. In due time, so she shall submit to me." (When you have Saber Artoria).

"A mad dog is always fun to see run around, chasing his own shadow. But at the end, they still have to be put down." (When you have Assassin Lobo).

* * *

 **The Adventures of Tohsaka Aoi, Homemaker!**

"Truly, a meager abode you have, mongrel," the King of Heroes sneered, languidly reclining on Tokiomi's favorite couch while sipping a glass of his best wine. "The whole of it would have fit into one of my chambers in Uruk! How much has mankind declined in my absence!"

"I'm sorry my humble home isn't up to your standards, Your Majesty," Tokiomi mousily replied, lowering his head.

"And your wine! So watery and insipid!" Gilgamesh arrogantly tossed some of it on the room's floor with a flick of his wrist. "I would say my tastebuds are offended… had they only tasted anything in the first place!"

"I, I had them brought from your homeland especially in your honor, O Wise King," Tokiomi stammered.

"Then even the once rich Babylon has gone to seed as well!" Archer lamented melodramatically. "Will I have to raze this world to ashes so a better one may be born? Or is such a hopeless task unworthy of my efforts…?"

"Excuse me, My Lord," Tokiomi's wife saintly said, approaching Gilgamesh with a mop and bucket. "But you have just left a stain on my floor…"

The haughty blond snorted. "So what? Woman, I couldn't care any less about this mongrel's cheap floors! In my opinion, the whole lot of them are already a stain on my sensibility!"

She kept on that angelic smile of hers. "I'm terribly sorry, Lord Archer, Sir, but I'm afraid I didn't speak loud enough as to be understood. I shall correct that for Your Majesty's sake. I never said this was my beloved husband's floor… **_I SAID IT WAS MY FLOOR,"_** she finished with a booming demonic voice as the air blackened around her.

Gilgamesh blinked, sat up very straight, and wordlessly extended a hand aside to accept the mop and bucket from the once again beatifically smiling Aoi. "Our most honest thanks for your infinite kindness, O Highest of Kings," she sweetly told him while Tokiomi did his best to mesh back against the wall.

The Servant rasped arrogantly while mopping, Aoi walking out to the tune of her blessed whistling.. "Of course, I do this only because it came to me, in a sacred royal whim! Gilgamesh has done everything under the sun, from the most sublime to the most mundane, as to experience all a human being can live through! Mopping included because, what kind of royal life is not lived to its fullest? No activity is strange to Gilgamesh's boundless experience! No skill is above his absolute control! Not even the lowest ones! They are all tried and mastered at least once, just for novelty's sake! Oh, damnation, I think some of it spilled on the carpet, too…!"

* * *

Assassin relaxed under the sun, sitting on a floater at the middle of the Tohsaka Pool, with a can of beer in a hand and sunglasses on his grinning face. "Yeah, man, t'is the good life!" he laughed to himself. "Who woulda thought it, Japan ain't that bad after all! Babes are a bit too flat f'r my tastes, but other than dat, I could get used ta visit dis dump every once in a while!"

Aoi approached the edge of the pool. "Excuse me please, Assassin-sama, sir… but, would you terribly mind putting on some shorts, or at the very least swimming trunks, while enjoying our pool? We have a child in this house, after all…"

"Yeah? An' how izzat my fault?" Assassin growled. "Not my blamed responsibility if ya heartless parents didn't move yer kid away 'fore this whole bloody brouhaha started! Honestly, th' nerve of s'me people… Keepin' their brats around during them dangerous times, an' then whinin' when they get their spines ripped off, or get an eyeful of good ol' Main Man Meat… Typical fraggin' soccer mom! Good thing I offed mine 'fore kindergarten!"

Aoi's face twitched a little. "You know, Assassin-sama, I do think you might be right to some degree, and I apologize to you… **_INDEED, I THINK WE MIGHT HAVE TO REMOVE SOME 'LITTLE FRIENDS' FROM HERE RIGHT NOW!"_** she howled madly to make a Berserker proud, pulling massive chainsaw out and swinging it dangerously towards Assassin's crotch while turning it on.

He yelped, then began paddling away in the opposite direction. "'Kay, 'kay, got th' message! Feetal's gizz! I'll go fer some Speedos or sumthin' already, lady! Damn! Wuz startin' ta catch some cold on th' family jewels already, anyway…!"

* * *

In the depressing darkness of his motel room, Matou Kariya turned off the signal coming to him from one of his spy bugs and sighed deeply. "Damn you, Tokiomi…! Why did you have to be the luckiest of all men in this world…?"

Banner blinked, wondering exactly what his Master, poor twisted pathetic stalking creep he was, had seen this figured out this 'Aoi' had to be some sort of angel like his Betty, the way Kariya worshipped her…


End file.
